The Intern
by pomatterpie
Summary: When NYADA junior Rachel Berry lands a coveted summer internship at a famous arts and entertainment magazine, she gets a little more than she bargained for after she starts working for her aloof and demanding new boss Shelby Corcoran. NYC AU in Three-Parts.
1. Chapter 1

**Part I**

* * *

"So, who are you working for again?" Santana asked as her roommate jogged right past her.

"She's working for Shelby Corcoran," Kurt answered, sliding over the most recent edition of _The Revue_ across the kitchen table. "She's only one of _the_ most influential theater critics in the city."

"In the country," Rachel corrected while she scurried around the living room collecting her things. She was late. For her standards. And she hated rushing.

"Have either of you seen my planner? It's black with a gold star in the middle of it."

"No, sorry," Kurt said through a yawn as he rubbed the sleep out his eyes. While he loved sharing an apartment with Rachel and even Santana, he didn't necessarily enjoy the early wakeup calls. There weren't any real walls or privacy so noise traveled freely throughout their Bushwick flat. And Rachel, who was always up at six every morning, didn't necessarily know how to be discreet moving about while she got ready for the day.

"I didn't even know you wanted to be a writer," Santana said, leaning her hand against her head. It was the first week of summer vacation and it was far too early for her to be awake right now. "I thought you were trying to be on stage. It's all you literally talk about."

"I know and I still do," Rachel answered distractedly, pulling pillows and blankets off the couch in her search. "But I needed an internship to graduate. And this one is paid and it's related to musical theater."

"And she gets to work for _Shelby Corcoran_," Kurt added with a hint of jealousy. "You have to tell me what she's like, Rach. She's incredible."

"She can't be _that_ important if _I've_ never heard of her," Santana remarked, unimpressed.

Kurt sighed heavily at his roommate's ignorance of Broadway royalty before taking a large breath and diving in. "_Well_, she won a Tony when she was twenty three for her performance in _Run From Here_. It was her one and only role but she blew everyone away. She quit acting after that. She went MIA for a while but then she started writing arts and entertainment for _Time Out New York _and then became their theater editor and chief drama critic. She left a few years ago to start her own magazine_. _She's like the Anna Wintour of Broadway. Everybody at NYADA reads _The Revue_ religiously. And anyone who's anyone in the performing arts world cares what Shelby Corcoran has to say," he informed as a matter-of-factly. "Oh! And she's from a small town in Ohio too! I think it's actually an hour or so from Lima, so that's kind of cool and gives me hope."

"Wow okay, you stalker," Santana replied, picking up and thumbing through the glossy publication in her hands. "Tell me more please, Wikipedia."

"Shut up Satan," Kurt grumbled. "I only know details because I helped Rachel prep for her interview."

"Well jeez, then how did Berry get this gig if this Shelby chick so important?"

Rachel, still preoccupied with locating her much-needed planner, didn't even pause at the retort.

"Shelby Corcoran's a NYADA alum and she started this internship program for NYADA students. She hires a rising senior and then mentors them through the summer and then basically gets them whatever job they want in the industry after they graduate because she has so many connections," Kurt answered again. He, too, wanted a chance to apply to the coveted internship, but he had to take summer classes instead. He just had to settle for living vicariously through his best friend.

"This guy, Jesse St. James, who was a couple years ahead of us, got the internship last year," he continued. "He just graduated and he's doing a workshop with Lin Manuel Miranda now. And the girl who interned at _The Revue_ the year before him just shot a pilot for her own TV show in LA. Shelby sets you up."

"But you have to earn it," Rachel added from the other room while she continued to gather everything she needed for the day. "I'm in a spin class with her executive assistant Giselle and she told me that they literally call her the Ice Queen."

"Okay, well good luck then," Santana said, closing the magazine back up. It seemed like a lame theater version of _Vogue, _in her opinion. "When have you ever been good with authority? I'll give you a month, Berry."

"Rach, you better not get yourself fired," Kurt warned seriously, craning his neck toward the direction of Rachel's bedroom and pitched his voice higher. "You can't mess this up! We need this. Shelby Corcoran needs to help you, so you can, in turn, help me. We _need_ her."

"Found it!" Rachel shouted triumphantly. She walked back into the kitchen carding the missing planner close to her chest and relief marked all over her face. _Now _she prepared to tackle her first day of work.

"Rachel, did you hear me? You can't get fired," Kurt repeated himself.

"Yeah, seriously, because it sounds like this Shelby person can probably destroy your career, if you annoy her," Santana nodded her agreement. "And we all know how good you are at that."

Rachel rolled her eyes while she poured the rest of the freshly brewed coffee from the machine into her tumbler then turned to regard her roommates with a deeply insulted scowl.

"I resent that you both have _zero _faith in me. I am going to work hard and keep my head down," she said confidently. "I am perfectly capable of handling myself. And I am _certain_ that I can handle Shelby Corcoran. It'll be just fine, no thanks to either of you. I am _not_ going to get fired."

* * *

"We need to fire the new intern," Shelby decided as she handed off a clipboard to her Human Resources Director at _The Revue_.

"What?" Emma Pillsbury chuckled at the random directive, scrunching her eyebrows together in perplexity. "Rachel? Why? She's only been here a week. She just started."

Removing her glasses and setting them down on her desk, Shelby stretched tiredly as she leaned back in her chair. She had just finished putting the final touches on the last of her notes for _The Revue's _website's weekend content. It wasn't the most horrendous batch of articles she's edited, but it certainly wasn't the best. She made a mental note to talk to her editors about coming up with fresh ideas. She felt like she'd been reading the same stories over and over again. She was craving something original, compelling. Something new.

"Well?" Emma pressed. "You were supposed to have lunch with her yesterday and you canceled, remember? You haven't even given her a chance."

Sighing heavily, Shelby rolled her neck on her shoulders and grimaced at the cracks and pops she heard that to her, sounded like the ticking clock of old age that set into her bones at forty four years old. It was nine o'clock in the evening and it was the first moment she's taken to relax the entire day, perhaps even the week. And while she preferred to keep her days filled, her pace fast, her schedule has been grueling as of late.

"I know, sorry. I meant to go to lunch and that was completely my fault for mismanaging my time yesterday morning, but—"

"But nothing Shel, you haven't even met her yet!" Emma protested, sinking down into one of the leather chairs in her best friend turned boss' corner office in Manhattan. "We are not firing the intern. I, personally, think she's great. She is a little green but interns usually are. I mean, where is this even coming from?"

Shelby crossed her arms over her chest and smirked ever so slightly at the admonition. Despite her notorious reputation in the industry and the many monikers she's received over the years: Ice Queen, Coach Corcoran, Wicked Witch and, her personal favorite, the Devil Who Listens to Barbra, Emma was completely immune to all of it. She was the only one who was insusceptible to her stone-cold mask and the manner she's able to raise her eyebrow or purse her lips to convey a dissatisfaction of catastrophic proportions.

Emma was the only one who wasn't afraid to challenge Shelby. But the bubbly and always-positive human resources professional also happened to be the only one who's known the Broadway stalwart long-before either of them ever set foot in New York City.

"Well _I _don't have an issue with her," she shrugged. "Like you said, I haven't even met the kid. I don't even know what she looks like, to be honest. _But _I have been getting complaints all week, Em. From my editors and my writers about her, and I don't have the bandwidth to deal with it. I have to oversee edits to the upcoming publication. We have our Tony After-Party to plan next week. There's the re-branding meeting with the investors in July. I'm tapped out. I don't have the capacity to deal with an intern on the loose."

"Who's complained to you about Rachel?" Emma inquired with a deep frown. "And why haven't they said anything to me? I'm in charge of HR and the internship program. If people are having issues with her, then they should be coming to me."

"It's because you're too nice," Shelby laughed good-naturedly. "They know you won't do anything, Miss Everybody-Deserves-A-Second-Chance."

"Well what has she even done?" Emma questioned.

Shelby chuckled lightly and shook her head in amusement. "Let's see. I have a list," she said, reaching over and grabbing a notepad off her desk. "Jacob Ben Israel said that she refused to shoot her introduction video for the staff in the studio and insisted that they film it in Washington Park. Goolsby tasked her with a short write-up and when he gave her edits, she gave him edits to his edits, which were longer than the actual assignment, by the way. And Cassandra said that she re-arranged the kitchen, re-organized the supply closet, and re-worked all the files in the Shared Drive. Cass couldn't find any of her interview notes after Rachel shuffled things around. And a few others have said that she's been giving unsolicited opinions."

"So people don't like her because she's ambitious and efficient?" Emma scoffed, her posture getting defensive. "That's hardly anything to come to you about. They all complained when our last intern did nothing. Rachel's just excited. I'll talk to her about reining it in, but we are _not_ firing her. She has a positive attitude and only wants to contribute. I can channel that."

"Alright, that's fine with me," Shelby acquiesced with a shrug. "But then this," she ripped the list off the notepad and pushed it toward the woman. "Is your problem. We always have dozens of great applicants from NYADA. And she's the best one this year? Where is she from, anyway?"

Emma paled a bit at the line of questioning. She wasn't expecting to get into this tonight. "Um," she cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Rachel's actually from… Lima."

"What?" Shelby said, narrowing her eyes and leaning toward Emma, not sure if she heard her properly.

Emma instantly dropped her gaze and began to fidget in her seat, bracing herself for the woman's reaction. The small town near their home in Ohio and the past that they, Shelby especially, left behind was always treacherous territory with the woman sitting across from her.

"She's from Lima," Emma repeated in a timid voice.

"What do you think you're doing?" Shelby demanded after it registered. She shook her head incredulously while she stamped down the flash of anger passing through her.

"Okay, just please listen to me first," Emma insisted, steeling herself against the smoldering glare being directed her way. "Rachel looks _just like you_, Shel. Her last name is Berry. She'd be the same age as your… She hasn't mentioned a mom yet. This can't be a coincidence. She _has_ to be your—"

"Are you serious, Emma?" Shelby interrupted, her tone scalding. "You hired this girl, out of our dozens of other applicants, because you think she might be the baby I was a surrogate for? I can't believe you right now, I—"

"No. I hired her because she was the best candidate with the most impressive application, interview, and qualifications," Emma countered, ready to defend her professional record. "Rachel is just eager and I don't think that's grounds for termination because she's putting people out here on their toes. You're the one who's said that since we're successful now, we're becoming more complacent. She has energy, and it's refreshing. If you would just take the time to meet her, then you would understand. But Shelby, I… every time I see her, it's like looking at you. Twenty years ago. She may as well be your clone. And she's incredibly talented too. Her voice alone is—"

"She is not my daughter," Shelby rejected the thought.

She couldn't be.

It's been more than twenty years and for this one girl to have walked in now, to have serendipitously applied for a job at _her_ company, to have found her way back into her life after all of these years—it wasn't possible.

This Rachel _wasn't_ hers.

"Shelby, just meet her," Emma reasoned. "There are too many coincidences. I really think that it is her. I know you said that you haven't been ready and that's why you haven't reached out to the Berry's since the contract expired, but through God's will or whatever force is out there in the universe, Rachel is the one who sought out _this_ job, goes to the school _you _went to, and applied to the internship program _you_ created. Maybe you're not ready, but _she_ found _you_. And if that's not a sign that maybe it's time for you to reconsider this relationship with the baby you helped create, then I don't know what is."

Shelby inhaled sharply, struggling to regulate her breathing. Her mind was spinning and she was fighting the profound rush of emotions washing over her, losing in fact. "When did you put the pieces together? Why didn't you tell me she applied then?" She asked, her voice cracking in the middle.

"Because you would've told me not to hire her and I just needed more time to be sure but honestly Shel, after this past week, I don't know how she _couldn't_ be related to you," Emma couldn't help but smile at the thought. "She's got your mannerisms, your interests, and your face for God's sake. Just see for yourself before you disregard this. You really should talk to her. Try to find out more about her. We can take this one step a time."

"I don't know if I can. Besides, what if it isn't her and we're just reading too much into it?" Shelby replied, clearing the growing lump in her throat. "That's too much pressure. And if it really is her, then what? She's not mine, Em. She doesn't owe me anything. And she's an adult now. With her own life. I can't just go in and implode it. Not after all this time."

"I know," Emma sighed and nodded her agreement. She's built a career out of providing guidance and direction to employees and to management respectively. But this was the one area where she didn't have the expertise to properly advise her friend. "I get it. I understand that there's a lot to think about here and I am so sorry that I kept this from you, but that's also because I knew you'd jump to these conclusions right away. I know you, Shel. And, as always, you're thinking again too much with your head and I already know that you've come up with yet another million reasons why you shouldn't pursue this but I also know how hung up you've been about her, your daughter, whoever she is. I think it's time for you to do something about it. You need to move forward."

Shelby attempted to control the thundering in her chest reacting to the possibility, at the chance that it could be _her_. She rarely allowed herself to think about the baby she agreed not to see for eighteen years. It was always easier not to. She hasn't permitted herself to even _want_ her daughter in years.

"Shel?" Emma prodded cautiously after the excruciating silence that followed, concerned that she's pushed too far, too soon. "Hey, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Maybe you're right and it could all just be a coincidence. I—I don't know. She hasn't really talked about her parents or her family, so I'm not sure. It is possible I was just seeing something that isn't there. But, I don't know, what are you thinking?"

Shelby dropped her head into her hands and closed her eyes, flooded immediately with memories of a coffee shop meet up with two loving husbands desperate to become fathers, an agreement she vowed to uphold, a pregnancy spent falling in love with the baby girl she carried inside of her, and at the end of it all, the wide brown eyes looking up at her that shifted her entire world off its axis. The ones that she had to brave walking away from.

She screwed her eyes even tighter at the torrent of repressed emotions that followed and the pain, the heartache that hasn't diminished over time. Eventually, she felt herself calm enough to remember to breathe.

Maybe it was time to make new memories.

"I don't know Em," Shelby said, lifting her head up warily and managed a small smile. "I'm thinking… that maybe _you're_ the one that I need to fire."

Emma laughed in relief as she dodged the crumpled up list of Rachel-related grievances thrown her away. "You'd never do that. You need me."

"Never say never," Shelby warned jokingly. "I just might if you don't go and grab me Rachel's personnel file."

* * *

"Finally!" Kurt greeted his roommate as soon as she walked in through the front door early Sunday evening. "You missed the intro but now they're in commercial break and they're about to come back and announce the nominees for Best Featured Actress in a Musical. Isn't your boss presenting it?"

Rachel issued a low groan as she threw her purse on the ground and plopped down next to Kurt on the couch, her entire body going limp instantaneously. "I. Am. So. Tired."

Kurt peeled the brunette's arm that was just thrown over her head and surveyed his best friend with concern. "You okay? I haven't seen you all weekend."

"No," Rachel answered with a deep pout, grabbing a pillow and cradling it close to her chest for the needed comfort. "And that's because I haven't been home since Friday morning."

"What? Where have you been sleeping?" Kurt asked guiltily at not having checked in sooner.

"At the Plaza," Rachel said, her voice denoting sheer exhaustion. "They put me up in a room to help prep for _The Rev's _Tony After-Party. I was there all weekend setting up and we _just_ finished. I'm—"

"Wait," Kurt interjected, sitting up to face Rachel, his expression as serious as she's ever seen him. "You were helping coordinate _The Revue_ after-party? Like _the_ after-party? The one that all the Award winners attend? Broadway's biggest celebration? And they're not even letting you go?"

"No, they are. I have tickets," she replied casually. "But I'm literally so tired, Kurt. I just want to watch the rest of this, take a warm bath, and then go to bed because I have to be back in the office super early tomorrow to help set up the cover shoot with the winners. Cassandra's to kill me if I'm late."

"Rachel!" Kurt shrieked, standing up abruptly and pulling the girl up to her feet. "You have tickets to the after-party and you're _not _going!? Have you lost your damn mind!"

"No I have not," Rachel frowned at the accusation, liberating her arm from his grasp and plummeting back down on her spot in the couch. "I just don't want to go. It took me an hour to get home. The absolute last thing I want to do is get ready just to awkwardly stand in the corner with my coworkers. I just spent the last 72 hours with them and I _especially _do not want to risk seeing—"

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Tony Award Winner and _The Revue's_ Editor in Chief, Shelby Corcoran…"

The announcement broke Rachel's train of thought and captured their attention to the broadcast, drawing Kurt back to the couch.

"_God_, she looks fantastic. Who is she wearing? Dior? I still cannot believe you work for her and get to see her every day."

"I _don't_," Rachel muttered through an aggravated breath as she settled to make herself comfortable.

"That burgundy dress is so elegant on her and her natural makeup look is very classy," Kurt admired, completely ignoring his sulking roommate as he watched Shelby on screen begin to present the nominees. "She's a Queen. Do you think she's ever going to go back to the stage? I seriously hope so. She's a great writer but her voice belongs on a Broadway stage."

Rachel only crossed her arms over her chest, pressed her lips together, and began to subconsciously glare at the television. Her fathers always said that if she had nothing nice to say, then it's best not to say anything at all.

"Oh my God!" Santana gasped dramatically as she walked into the living room, involuntarily stumbling backwards.

"What?" Kurt asked, whipping his head around in a panic.

Santana only gestured at Rachel. "Berry's face. Why does it look like that?"

"Hey!" Rachel remarked, her scowl turning into scorn at the unnecessary insult. "What's wrong with my face?"

"You look like me every time I used to see Mr. Schue every day," Santana replied, occupying the vacant spot on the couch. "Wait a second, _that's_ your boss? Has anyone told you that you guys kind of look alike? You know, if you were taller and actually looked like a grown ass woman."

"You know, I can't believe I've never noticed it before, but there is sort of a resemblance," Kurt agreed, his eyes darting from his roommate to his idol on the television. "Like you could be distant relatives. Has anyone else at work noticed, Rach?"

"First of all, Santana, you are the worst," Rachel stated, forcibly smacking her pillow against her other roommate. "And yes, I guess we sort of look alike. People at work comment on it all the time, but honestly, I wouldn't really know because I _still _haven't met her in person."

"What?" Kurt responded in disbelief. "How? You've been working there for three weeks, and you still haven't met her?"

"No, not at all," Rachel huffed in frustration.

"So what?" Santana chimed in. "She's the boss of what you two dweebs keep saying is one of the coolest magazines or whatever. She's probably just busy and doesn't have time to be bothered by the intern. That's how these things usually go."

"Yeah maybe at other jobs," Kurt answered quickly. "But this internship is always marketed as a mentorship program with Shelby Corcoran. That's the value in it. NYADA students kill each other for the chance to foster a relationship with her because she knows everything there is to know about the industry. She's a wealth of information and opportunities, and you're telling me that you haven't met her yet? _And _you _don't_ want to go to the after-party tonight? Who are you? And what have you done with Rachel Barbra Berry?"

"Maybe she already knows how annoying you are and that's why she's been avoiding you," Santana suggested with a shrug. "I told you not to get fired, Berry."

Kurt leaned over and placed his palm against Rachel's forehead, trying to gauge her temperature. "Are you sick? Do you not feel well, Rach? Is that why you want to stay in tonight because _that _I can accept."

"Okay, can you both please stop!" Rachel snapped, ducking her head away from Kurt's touch. She stood up to her feet and directed a frigid, withering stare at the current banes of her existence sitting on the couch. "I'm _fine. _I'm just exhausted because I've been running around non-stop and working these crazy hours for someone who won't even take a second out of her day to acknowledge my existence. Kurt is right. I was supposed to be getting mentorship out of this. And whatever, yes, I am fine with being the last woman on the totem pole and doing all the grunt intern work. But that was only under the stipulation that I would at least be getting something out of it. And you know what infuriates me even more?" She paused and drew in a large gulp of air. "I'm even more irritated because I reached out to Jesse St. James the other day to ask about his experience last year and he told me that he was getting weekly lunches and doing special projects and sitting in on meetings with Shelby. And what do I get? An email. Every morning at 7 a.m. with a list of the most random and demanding tasks. And I bend over backwards to accomplish it and all I ever get is a 'Thanks, nice work' email back at the end of the day. It's the worst!"

"Alright then," Santana broke the awkward silence a few beats later, surprised at the massive outburst from someone so tiny. "Well she sounds like a piece of work. I hope that they're paying you _at least_."

"They are," Rachel clarified, unclenching her jaw and fists after the verbal expulsion of all her current stress. "I mean they actually compensate me pretty generously by the hour and I've been working overtime. There are also good benefits and other nice perks. And they're even letting me take a few days off next week when my dads come in for Father's Day weekend. But, whatever, that's not my point."

"Ugh, I'm sorry Rach," Kurt apologized, getting up and engulfing his best friend into a sympathetic hug. "I didn't know that was happening. You didn't tell me. Isn't there anyone else you can talk to about this at work? Like another supervisor? It doesn't seem like they're holding up their end of the bargain. Maybe you can go to Professor Tibideaux?"

"Yeah, I do," Rachel sighed as she stepped out of the embrace. "The woman who's the director of HR is technically in charge of me, and she's great. I kind of had a rough start with the others in the office but she's taught me a lot professionally the past few weeks. And the job itself is sort of incredible. I mean the other day; April Rhodes came in for an interview on her record-breaking _eleventh_ Tony nomination. I talked to her for like ten minutes because I caught her by the elevator. She gave me amazing advice about building my repertoire. And no, I can't talk to Professor Tibideaux about it because Shelby's her prized student. Kurt knows I beat out so many other juniors for this. Bringing this to her will just make me look ungrateful."

"Well what has the HR lady said about this?" Santana inquired. "Why can't she fix that situation for you, isn't that her literal job?"

Beginning to pace the length of the living room rug, Rachel only shrugged. "She's tried. She sets things up but then Shelby always cancels. She keeps telling me that Shelby's just extremely preoccupied this summer and that she's not usually like this. _The Rev's_ also in the process of re-branding so there's a lot of creative and editorial decisions to be made. And I guess she has been traveling and in meetings back-to-back, but I don't know. It also feels weird to complain to Emma about her because they're like best friends. Shelby's like her son's God mom or something, so I feel awkward saying 'Hey, can you please tell your best friend in the entire world to stop ruining my life?'"

"So what are you going to do? Why don't you just quit?" Kurt suggested. It didn't seem worth it to him at that point.

"I can't," Rachel refused. "Absolutely not. I've put in too much, and I've also worked insanely hard to finally get on some of the other editor's good side. Cassandra finally stopped calling me Little Miss David Schwimmer. I don't care. If Shelby won't teach me, there are plenty of other people there who can. I can turn this around. With or without Shelby Corcoran. I am _not_ quitting."

"Wow!" Santana exclaimed, shocking the pair as she rose to her feet and clapped her hands together. "Yes, Berry! _Finally!_"

"What?" Rachel asked in even more confusion when Santana grabbed her shoulders and shook them firmly.

"You have _finally_ earned my respect," Santana replied, pulling in the petite brunette into an unexpected hug. "That's badass, Rachel. I agree. Don't quit. And be the best damn intern that magazine has ever seen. I know I give you a lot of crap but the one thing that I do know about you is that you're smart as hell and you definitely know how to work your ass off, so yes, _please _show your snobby boss what she's missing!"

"Um, thanks," Rachel shot Kurt a quizzical look as she raised a single arm to accept Santana's rare show of affection "I will?"

"You better," Santana said with a quirk of an eyebrow as she pulled away. "Don't let her win! You've got this."

"Well I don't want to fight with her," Rachel couldn't help the whine that broke past her lips, slumping back down into her seat. "I want her to like me. I just hate that she won't even give me a chance. It's making me feel like I've done something wrong and I don't even know what I did."

"I don't know, Rach. But I wouldn't take it personally if I were you," Kurt advised. "I remember reading a few articles about her when we were doing interview prep and how she's extremely private about her personal life and entirely dedicated to her work. I mean she doesn't have a partner or any kids. She's probably just one of those people who are all business all the time."

"Maybe, who knows? I don't care. All I know is that I just have to survive the summer," Rachel brushed it off, no longer interested in speculating or talking about her boss any further. She's already spent far too much of her time worrying about Shelby Corcoran. "And I'm sorry for snapping earlier, I'm irritable and sleep-deprived. And I don't even have the energy to watch this right now, so I'm just going to go to bed."

"Oh wait, make sure you call your dads before you go to sleep. They've called like a bunch of times the past few days," Santana informed. "The messages are by the phone. Don't they know you're working?"

"Oh no," Rachel groaned in recollection. "No, I totally forgot to tell them. I got the news that I got the internship while they were on their cruise in the Mediterranean last month and then I just got so busy. I think they think I'm still just working at the diner. What did they say on the phone?"

"Nothing really. Just that they're excited to come visit next weekend."

"Okay thanks, I'll call them," Rachel said, adding another task to her perpetually growing to-do list. Dolly was right. She was working nine to five now and _barely_ getting by.

"So…" Kurt interrupted her thoughts. "You're _really_ not going to the party tonight?"

Rachel shook her head firmly in the negative. "No, I'm really not," she denied, bending over to fish the tickets out of her purse. "_But_ I still have two of these, so if you two want to go, then don't let me stop you. There's still time for you two to get ready and—"

"Already have my emergency tuxedo dry cleaned and ready to go," Kurt said, plucking the limited invitations out of her hands. "Santana?"

"Eh," Santana shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Why not? Let's give Berry here the apartment to herself to decompress before she explodes and ignites a life-long feud with one of the most powerful women in New York. It's a date, Lady Hummel."

"Great, have fun," Rachel waved them off as they headed toward their rooms to get ready. "And if you see my boss, ask her why she hates me!" she shouted into the void while she deflated back into the couch.

The intern life was way more difficult than she could have ever predicted.

* * *

Every day after Tony weekend, Shelby's tried. She tried to talk to Rachel the morning after the awards show when they were the only two in the office. On Tuesday, she tried to get in the elevator with her but turned around before the girl even noticed. She tried to gather the courage to go to lunch Wednesday but walked away at the door. Yesterday, she tried to eek out a greeting while she walked past her in the hallway, but she only picked up her pace in an attempt to get away.

She was trying and failing.

Not something she was used to in the slightest.

But she wasn't ready. The prospect of it all unnerved her more than anything else ever has.

"Shelby Louise Corcoran, what the heck is wrong with you?" Emma hissed, hot on Shelby's heels as she followed the woman into her office. "Why do you keep avoiding Rachel?"

"Please close the door if you're just going to yell," Shelby ordered as she crossed her office, sitting down and scooting her chair closer to her desk. "I don't need anyone else hearing this conversation. How did the interviews for the new videographers go earlier?"

"It's 10 p.m. on Friday night, there's no one else here but us," Emma pointed out. "And don't change the subject. You have to stop shutting her out. Rachel's been interning here for a month and you still haven't even introduced yourself. She applied to this internship to learn _from you._ You're doing her a complete disservice by shutting her out."

Shelby opened up her laptop to begin her daily purge of her inbox. "I am not shutting her out. We're emailing back and forth now, actually. It's fine. I'm handling it."

"_You're_ handling it?" Emma huffed. "You walk away every time she gets near you. You pile on a mountain of work so you don't have to interact with her. And you bail every time I put her on your calendar. You won't even give her a chance, you—"

"Rachel _is_ my daughter," Shelby blurted out, pausing to take in the astonishment flashing through Emma's enormous and expressive eyes.

"What? For sure? When did you find out?"

Shelby closed her laptop, knowing she won't be able to get any work done now. "For sure? Earlier this week. I talked to her dads."

"To Hiram and, um, Larry? When? Why didn't you tell me?"

"LeRoy," Shelby corrected with a quiet voice. "I did some digging after I read Rachel's application. I talked to Carmen at NYADA. And then I made some phone calls. I've been trying to get a hold of the Berrys but they've been in and out of the country traveling. They just got back to me a few days ago. She's… Rachel is my daughter."

"Oh wow," Emma breathed, perching herself on the arm of the chair, swept away by the confirmation. "Wow. I mean I think we've both known, right? But it's still… how do you feel? Why haven't you told her?"

Shelby hesitated with her mouth open to speak, blinking up at Emma, and then bit her lip to keep it from trembling. "I don't know, but they're both coming into town this weekend and they asked to meet first and discuss how to approach this before I say anything to her. I think that's appropriate, right? They're her fathers and they know her better than I do. We can all figure out how to navigate this together." Her voice was thick, full of uncertainty.

"Yes, of course," Emma nodded her total support. "That sounds like a great idea. But what's the end goal here, Shel? You do want a relationship with Rachel, right?"

"I do," Shelby replied with her trademark confidence that time. "Of course I do. I just… I'm terrified too, though Em and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say to her. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can't do anything because all I do is think about her. I'm completely behind on work. I'm avoiding her because I just… I'm still processing it all, okay?"

"Okay," Emma accepted. "I'm hearing you. But take it from me? It's probably best to tell her sooner rather than later. I don't think it'll go over well if she finds out any other way."

"I know, Em," Shelby sighed.

She wanted to be honest. She hated the fact that Rachel had no idea. She wasn't comfortable with the thought that the girl did not have a single clue that they were all about to change her life irrevocably, but she herself was still struggling to digest it all. She needed to rein it in and gain more control over the situation because by this time next week, everything would be different.

Rachel would no longer just be the intern. If she was lucky, she'll be her daughter.

"Are you okay? What do you need? What can I do? We can go grab a drink? Carl's at home with Daniel, so I'm yours all night."

"No," Shelby objected, her mind drifting to the unread email from Rachel sitting in her inbox. "I'll be fine. I just need to catch up on work. And then get myself together to… you know, meet the two men I had a baby for that I haven't seen in decades. Casual."

"Hey, wait," Emma leaned over, taking Shelby's hand in her own. "This is good, okay? Amazing, in fact. And I know there's still a lot you need to work out here and I know you won't let yourself be happy until it's all figured out, but Shelby you realize you just said that you've found your daughter? And she's here! Of all places. Didn't I make an awesome call hiring her?"

"Okay," Shelby laughed as Emma squeezed her hand excitedly. "Let's hold off on the celebrating, shall we? Let me talk to the Berry's and Rachel first. There are plenty of hurdles left. Also you realize that if it all goes to hell, we're now out an intern for the rest of the summer?"

"Well then," Emma smirked. "I strongly suggest that you don't mess it up, boss lady."

* * *

Rachel fought through a wide yawn as she logged into her laptop the Monday morning after Father's Day. This was not how she wanted to spend her first weekday off in more than a month, but she was determined to be in and out and not let this unexpected jaunt into the office affect the fun and relaxing day she had ahead with her dads. She just had to focus. Lay low. And walk out of there undetected.

"Oh Berry, good. You're here," Cassandra July greeted the frenetic intern as she marched toward her desk. "Listen, I have to get to the venue to make sure everything's set for the shoot at noon. I'm running late, so can you take this?"

Rachel fought the urge to roll her eyes. So much for being invisible.

Cassandra placed a thick leather bound binder on the college student's desk and waited for her to make eye contact.

"Sorry, I'm actually not supposed to be working this morning," Rachel eyed the binder warily, shooting her shot despite already knowing how this was going to end. "I only came in to transcribe an interview for Dustin because he's out sick this morning. I was going to head out in an hour or so to meet my dads for brunch. They're in town visiting and Emma already gave me today and tomorrow off and..."

Rachel's voice trailed off as soon as she noticed Cassandra tapping her perfectly manicured nails against her desk, rather impatiently.

"Okay," Rachel nodded a moment later, panic settling in at the no-nonsense expression being cast her way.

If Shelby was the Ice Queen in the office, managing editor Cassandra July was undoubtedly the Dragon Lady. There was certainly no shortage of commanding female powerhouses at _The Revue_. And while that fact was sincerely inspiring, it was also equally terrifying to her on a daily basis.

"I will take this. Whom does it go to?"

"Great. Perfect," Cassandra lowered her arched eyebrow, thawing her icy tone. "This is The Book. It's a mock-up of the most recent edition and it goes to Shelby. I have finished all of my edits and it needs final approval from her. I need you to drop this off to her. We're going to print next week and she needs a few days to review, so it needs to be in her possession by 10 a.m. the latest. She is expecting it then. Not a second later, do you understand?"

"But that's in twenty minutes," Rachel remarked, her eyes dilating as she looked at the clock. "Where is she?"

"She is working from home today."

"But I—"

"I have a car downstairs waiting for you. Shelby only lives a few blocks away. They'll take you to her building. Take it up to the penthouse. You are to let yourself in and then place The Book on the table next to the closet in the foyer. Just set it down, let yourself out, and then call me as soon as you're done," Cassandra instructed rapidly, as if she was challenging her to keep up with her. "You are to speak to no one. Do nothing. See nothing. Just drop The Book off and leave. Got it? I am trusting you here, Rachel. Do not let me down."

Rachel only nodded at the warning while she fumbled over gathering all her belongings as quickly as possible. She only had seventeen minutes now until ten. And she was not going to be the one to bring something as important as this even a millisecond late to her boss' boss.

"Thanks Berry," Cassandra said sincerely. "I'll get someone else to transcribe that interview, so just take the rest of your day after you drop it off. I appreciate ya!"

Experiencing whiplash from the total 180, Rachel only released a shaky breath when the sound of Cassandra's Louboutins clicking against the polished floors began to fade away.

Ten minutes later, Rachel closed the door to the cab and hustled toward the luxury apartment building in Midtown with a determined purpose. She strolled right in as the doorman ushered her inside.

"Good morning Miss Corcoran, we just sent your guests upstairs," he greeted with a smile.

"Oh sorry," Rachel halted as she studied the lobby then turned to face the man. "I'm not Shelby. I'm just her intern. I'm dropping something off for her."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. You look just like her and she always sort of comes in in a flurry like that," the man apologized. "Sorry about that."

Rachel shrugged it off. "No big deal. She lives in the penthouse, correct?"

"Yes ma'am, the elevator to the penthouse suites is around the corner. The Corcoran residence is at the very top, so press six for access."

"Thanks!" Rachel replied, already halfway across the lobby. She peeked at her phone and glanced briefly at the four text messages she's already received from Cassandra since she left. She had two minutes left before ten.

Her focus still glued to the screen, she rounded the corner and bumped right into a tall and slender back.

"Oh! I'm so sorry I wasn't looking. I…" Rachel's eyes widened in surprise as the man turned around also revealing that he wasn't alone. "Dad? Daddy? What… what are you two doing here?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II **

* * *

Rachel,

Please pick up your phone. Your fathers and I are worried about you. We've been looking for you all day. We don't even know where you are. I need to see you. I really want to talk. Please let me explain.

I'm sorry.

Shelby Corcoran  
Editor in Chief, _The Revue  
_Office: (718) 782-3012

* * *

You've had an entire month to explain. You lied. You've had every opportunity in the world to talk to me and you chose to ignore me at every turn.

No, thank you.

Rachel Berry  
Editorial Intern, _The Revue_

* * *

Will you please come home? We just want to make sure you're safe. Your roommates said that you haven't been back to the apartment since yesterday morning. Your dads are going to call the police if you don't at least tell them where you're staying. I understand that you are upset, but you cannot run away or hide from this forever. We need to discuss this.

You can be angry with me all you want, but at least call your fathers.

Please.

Shelby Corcoran  
Editor in Chief, _The Revue  
_Office: (718) 782-3012

* * *

Fine.

Rachel Berry  
Editorial Intern, _The Revue_

* * *

Thank you. I'm glad you were with Emma. I just want to make sure you're alright. I would really appreciate it if you gave me a chance to explain my side of the story.

Let me clarify some things that you said on Monday. You have to understand, I didn't intend to keep this from you. I wanted to tell you, and I also only just found out recently. I didn't tell Emma to hire you already knowing that you were my daughter. I had absolutely no clue who you were when you first started. I didn't know what to do and your dads and I just wanted to speak first to be on the same page. We were going to tell you, of course we were. You're the most important person in this situation.

I am so sorry, Rachel. You have to know that.

I know that I've handled it all wrong. It was never my intention to make you feel like you were doing anything wrong. I feel terrible about ignoring you the way I did. It wasn't okay, and I realize that.

I'm sorry; I don't know what I'm doing. I've never done this before. But I would appreciate the chance to learn and make it up to you.

Please come back to work. Talk to me. I want to make this right between us.

Shelby Corcoran  
Editor in Chief, _The Revue  
_Office: (718) 782-3012

* * *

I know. Emma told me that you didn't say anything because you were processing, and I get that more than anyone. But now you have to understand that I also need my space and my time to work through this too.

I'm going to think about coming back to work. Emma said I could take the rest of the week to decide.

I'm sorry too. I just need more time.

Rachel Berry  
Editorial Intern, _The Revue_

* * *

Okay, I understand. I'll be here whenever you're ready.

I just want to say one more thing. I don't know anything about being a mom, and I can't promise that I'll be any good at it either. But I do know that even though we don't know each other very well yet, I know that I love you. I know that I care about you. And I know that I want to try.

I realize my actions have shown you otherwise, but I do want to be in your life Rachel, more than anything, if you'll let me.

Shelby Corcoran  
Editor in Chief, _The Revue  
_Office: (718) 782-3012

* * *

Shelby swallowed back the scream of frustration that threatened to escape after she refreshed her Mail App for the millionth time since she's woken up that morning. It's been more than sixteen hours since her last email to Rachel and although she had promised space, she was still desperately hoping for a reply back. How was she supposed to fix things with silence?

Throwing her phone into her purse, she ignored the driver tipping his hat as she exited the sleek town car outside of the office building. It was her first day back since everything imploded with Rachel's unexpected drop by before her meeting with Hiram and LeRoy. Before they could even begin to properly explain the situation, the girl stormed away after the pronouncement that she was her mother had been dropped.

It was a mess.

And she was not one who was used to being ignored either.

She sighed in discontent while she made her way through the lobby with a scowl marring her usually collected features. Despite the crowd waiting for the elevator, no one dared to join her on the ride up to the top floor that occupied her entire life's work. And she preferred it that way.

She had gotten to work much earlier than usual, needing to catch up on everything she's missed the past few days. In the nine years since she's started her company, she's never one worked from home and two missed consecutive days of work. She's done both in the past week.

The moment the elevator opened, her abrupt arrival sent her frantic employees into a panicked frenzy to get out of her way and make things appear normal. The past few days have been an unprecedented free for all, but her mere presence was enough to get everybody clamoring to get back to business.

"Shelby, hi!" Her executive assistant Giselle remarked through her shock as the mercurial editor marched toward her desk. "I didn't know you were coming in today. I thought you were still working from home. I will go and get you your coffee and print out your morning agenda."

"Can you please get Emma first?" Shelby instructed while she relieved herself of her designer purse and sunglasses, handing them both off to her assistant as she walked into her glass frosted office.

"Yes absolutely, I will—"

"Hey! I thought you said you weren't coming in?" Emma greeted, letting herself in not even a second after the woman's biding.

Shelby nodded her head imperceptibly as she rounded her desk, feeling some semblance of calm enter her body for the first time in days while she settled in her seat. She couldn't seem to get anything right these days. But work was always something she was good at. It was something that she could control.

"Giselle, please close the door on your way out and hold my calls for the next thirty minutes," Shelby ordered without bothering to conceal the steel in her icy tone. "Do not let anyone else in here. I need the room for a bit."

"Yes ma'am," the assistant nodded as she clumsily made her way out of the frigid atmosphere enveloping her boss' office.

"So I take it Rachel still hasn't gotten back to you?" Emma frowned as she picked up on her friend's palpable dour mood.

Shelby shook her head, exhausted and frustrated. "No. But I needed to come in. I couldn't just sit at home anymore."

"She'll come around, Shel," Emma reassured in a gentle tone. "We talked a lot when she spent the night and I think… I don't know, I think that she's confused, yes. But she also told me that she does want a relationship with you as well. That was her end goal too. She just needs more time. Like you did."

Shelby only hummed her acknowledgement. As much as she hated it, Emma was right. She just wished that they could be on the other side of it. She didn't care for the uncertainty. And she wasn't used to hitting any walls in her life. There were hardly any barriers she was unable to overcome, certainly not professionally, proven in her long and successful career. Though personally was always a different matter. Her daughter, the baby that she gave up, always remained as the most impenetrable, concrete one of them all.

"Are you okay? What can I do, Shel? Do you need me to talk to Rachel again?"

Moved by the concern, Shelby managed a small smile for her unfailingly considerate best friend. Whereas she was ice, Emma was always warmth. They balanced each other out. She didn't have any siblings growing up but she always had Emma and for her, and the way she always made her feel like she wasn't alone and that there wasn't anything she couldn't handle, she would always be grateful.

"Nothing," Shelby released a crawling breath that seemed to leech some of the tension out of her body. Her fury with herself, and with the situation, had slightly dissipated but her frustrations relented.

"It's okay. You've already done plenty. Thank you so much again for taking care of Rachel the other night. I was so worried, but I'm glad she came to you. We are—we're both lucky to have you."

"You don't have to thank me," Emma returned the grin. "She's your kid, Shel. I already consider Rachel family. I'd do anything for her too."

"She really said that she wants to have a relationship with me too?"

"Yes," Emma replied truthfully. "She told me that she's always wanted to know who her mom was but never felt like she could ask her dads because she didn't want to hurt their feelings."

"You don't think she's disappointed with me? I mean, as in, she's not disappointed that I'm the one who ended up being her mom?" Shelby asked in an uncharacteristically unconfident manner. "Or what if she only likes me _because _of who I am."

"No. I mean she asked me a ton of questions about you but none of them were about your acting or _Rev_. I honestly don't think that matters to her. She just wants to know who _you _really are. Not who the Internet curated you to be. I actually think that'll help if you show her where you're coming from because I think right now she's only seeing you as her boss and—"

A faint knock on the door interrupted Emma as Giselle popped her head in warily, slightly faltering at the daggers being glared her way. "S-sorry but Miss July said she needs to—"

"Oh just let me in," Cassandra pushed her way through, striding into the executive office suite with a confidence only eight years of working for, with, and sometimes around the formidable Shelby Corcoran could create.

"Cassandra," Shelby warned lightly.

"Nuh uh, _no,_" Cassandra protested, standing her ground on top of the clout she's rightfully earned over the years. "You have to tell me what's going on. You haven't been here in _three_ days without so much as an explanation. And Emma over here spent three hours of her afternoon yesterday stress cleaning her office. Nope, don't look at me like that, Red," she paused, lifting an eyebrow at the sound of disapproval from the woman. "My office is across from yours. It reeks of clorox. I feel like I work in a swimming pool now."

Shelby took a calming breath before straightening her back more than it already was. She met Emma's gaze and briefly exchanged a silent conversation.

"Uh, no again," Cassandra objected staring at the two of them suspiciously. "I will not be on the outs of the sister wives thing you two have going on. Where were you, Corcoran? Is it the rebrand? The meeting with the investors next week? Are we out of money? Is _The Rev_ in trouble?"

"No," Shelby scoffed with a harrumph at the thought.

Coming up on a decade of building her company, they were finally hitting their stride. By every metric, _The Revue_ was thriving. They were turning a profit and maintaining a steady subscription base while increasing traffic across their digital platforms. Their influence in the theater world and the performing arts industry was cemented. She even had plans to launch a UK edition of the magazine and establish an office in London over the next couple of years. To her, they had made it.

But that also meant that it was now time to push it a little bit further. She was never one to settle. And the upcoming rebrand was a way for her and her team to take stock of the publication, reposition itself in the market, and broaden their appeal to a changing audience. However, she's been racking her brain for months because she didn't want to simply make cosmetic changes to _The Revue_, she wanted to also revitalize the content that they were producing and make meaningful changes to the way they told their stories digitally and in print.

She was just currently struggling with a way how.

"Then what is it, Shelby? You know I don't appreciate the secrecy. I work my ass off for you day in and day out, all I want in return is to be looped in," Cassandra demanded, losing what little patience she had.

"I am sorry that I didn't give you proper notice of my absence. I had a... family emergency," Shelby hoped to leave it at that.

Cassandra's stance defrosted significantly at the answer. "Oh, are your parents alright? Do you need to go back to Ohio?"

"No, it's not them. They're both okay," Shelby didn't want to lie, avoiding Cassandra's sharp eye as she shuffled papers around her desk.

"Then what's going on with Emma? She's the only other family you have. Em, what's wrong with you?" Cassandra questioned, turning her attention to the woman.

Emma opened and closed her mouth soundlessly as she looked from Shelby to Cassandra, two women that she definitely did not want to be caught between. "I—"

Shelby sighed. "It's not Emma either. It was my daughter."

Cassandra paused. "Excuse me, your what?"

"My daughter."

"You don't have a—"

"Rachel Berry. Our intern. She's my daughter," Shelby confessed, relishing in how good it felt to say that aloud.

Cassandra's gaze flicked from Shelby's completely serious demeanor to Emma's sincerely hopeful one. A beat later, a loud snort echoed through the spacious office as she burst out into a raucous fit of laughter.

"Cass," Shelby rolled her eyes.

"_Stop. _You're telling me," Cassandra choked out through her cackling. "That _you_ procreated. You. Shelby Corcoran. You're a mom. _How?_"

Shelby's eyebrows only arched in response, almost amused by the reaction. "Before I moved to New York, I was a surrogate for two men back in Ohio right after I graduated from college. They were looking to start a family. I agreed to carry a child to term. I signed a contract stipulating I wouldn't seek her out until she was eighteen. I had no idea who she was, until Emma hired her to work here last month. Her fathers and I just told her the other day. It did not go well. That's why we've been both out."

"Ho-ly, that's literally one of the craziest things I've ever heard," Cassandra breathed out as she plopped down on the chair behind her. "I cannot believe you're a mother. Oh my God, Shelby, you're a _momager_. To Little Miss David Schwimmer, of all people!"

"Alright," Shelby suppressed a laugh, shaking her head in disapproval. "I'm going to need you to stop calling my kid that."

"And I also think you should stop calling Dustin Sergeant Handsome," Emma suggested while they were on the topic. "He's expressed some discomfort with it."

"Oh whatever," Cassandra shrugged it off. "He's lucky I acknowledge him at all. Anyway, Shelby, that is absolutely insane. How do you feel about it? Where has she been anyway? Has she—" she paused in the middle of her thought, realization dawning on her face. "Please tell me that you have The Book and that you've made your edits."

Shelby tilted her head questioningly. "No I have not," she said, unsure of the direction of the topic at hand. "Because I assumed you still have it, Cassandra, am I right?"

"No," Cassandra informed, her complexion paling. "I gave The Book to Berry to drop off your apartment on Monday morning. She didn't give it to you?"

"No," Shelby's face deadpanned. "Why would she even have it?"

"To drop it off to you!" the managing editor replied in the most obvious tone. "I was running late Monday morning to run the shoot with the _Funny Girl_ revival cast. I had Rachel drop it off the penthouse. She never confirmed that she did but I assumed that was just simply her incompetence. I didn't hear anything from you, so I also assumed you had it. Shelby, I thought you were reviewing it so you can show a final version to the investors next week."

Shelby shook her head in disbelief. After everything, it never even occurred to her to wonder why Rachel showed up at her apartment the other day. She was too preoccupied dealing with the repercussions of her finding out the truth to worry about the upcoming publication, but trusted that her team had it handled.

"Well she certainly did not give it to me, so you're telling me that we don't know where the mock-up is? Cassandra, how could you let this happen?" Shelby snarled. If there was one thing she did not tolerate, it was her employees dropping the ball.

"Oh don't look at me like that," Cassandra countered sharply "We wouldn't have this issue if you weren't insistent on doing final edits on pen and paper. We could've been doing this digitally, like I've been suggesting for forever, and have been fine."

"Alright, let's just take a moment," Emma cut in, attempting to diffuse the situation. The last thing _The Rev_ needed at the moment was contention between its two leaders. "There's a logical explanation. I'm sure that Rachel still has The Book. She's been overwhelmed, so I'm certain she just forgot to hand it over. We just need to get it back from her, and Shelby can still make her edits this weekend. The investors' meeting isn't until Monday morning. We have time."

"Okay," Shelby relented, brushing her fingers over her forehead diffidently, her focus faraway. "Fine. Emma's right. We just need it today then, and I'll just push everything else aside to focus on it. It's been through everyone else with the changes we agreed on with the rebrand?"

"Yes," Cassandra backed down, knowing full well she wouldn't come out of that toe-to-toe unscathed. "We just need your final thoughts, then it can come back to me and we can put in edits and reprint for Monday. Should we ask Rachel to drop it off?"

"No, we should probably send someone to go and get it. Rachel's taking the rest of the week off," Shelby replied distractedly, missing the admonishing look being cast her way. "She should be at home."

"Shelby!" Emma chided.

"What?" Shelby remarked in sincere confusion by the outburst.

For someone so brilliant about so many things, Shelby's been painfully dense about this. "We are not sending someone to go and pick up work from Rachel. If you want The Book, _you_ need to go over there and get it yourself."

"But she—"

"Please let me come!" Cassandra shot her hand straight up to the sky, a far too eager expression across her face. "I have to see Shelby in mommy mode. It's something I just didn't even know I needed."

"No!" Emma said firmly, smacking Cassandra's arm down. "_You_ are going to go back out there and hold it down for the rest of the morning until Shelby comes back," she ordered, pulling the editor up to her feet and guiding her out the door against her protests. "And _you_," she pointed a stern finger at Shelby still sitting at her desk. "Need to go and get the draft yourself. I know you don't know Rachel all that well, but I can guarantee you that it will not go over well in the slightest if you send someone else out there. Go and talk to her."

"No. She doesn't want to talk to me," Shelby replied stubbornly, not one to care for being told what to do. "She said she needs space. That's what I'm going to give her."

"If my mother gave me space every time I demanded it from her, I would be a terror," Emma said. "You're her mom, Shel. I know Rachel's twenty years old but she's also just a kid, too. Just talk to her. Not just through email. Apologize to her in person and tell her that you want a second chance. I promise you that'll go a long way if she sees and hears it from you."

"Okay but—"

"Shelby, just go!" Emma bellowed in a voice that completely defied her size.

"Okay, alright, I'm going," the woman conceded as she pushed her chair away from her desk.

She didn't know what her employees were talking about, because there were certainly times when Emma was one of the scariest people that she knew.

* * *

"Okay Berry, what do you want me to do?" Santana asked as soon as she shut the door behind them. "Do you want me to ask her to leave? Because I could care less about who she is and what she can do. If you don't want her here, just say the word."

Rachel turned around to face Santana, straining to keep her anxiety from filtering onto her face. "No, it's okay. I—I don't know what's happening. I told her I needed space. What is she even doing here?"

"I don't know, I couldn't hear her past Kurt's hyperventilating at the door," Santana replied, perching herself at the edge of her roommate's bed, watching her pace the width of the small bedroom. "She's probably just here to talk to you, right?"

"But she said that she understood that I needed more time," Rachel grumbled in frustration, deflating into the desk chair.

She was panicking. Not casually either. She had been flipping through the catalogue of every emotion conceivable since she found out. And four days later, she was still just as confused as ever.

She liked to think that she was a good woman in a crisis. She could deal with pressure. She knew how to problem solve. She was excellent at keeping things in check. Three years of helping build a show choir championship team and all the obstacles that were thrown in their way taught her how to be flexible. Four years of going to school and surviving in what was the special hell that was McKinley showed her how to be steadfast. And currently living in New York and fighting to make her dreams come true forced her to be strong.

But nothing could have prepared her for this.

Every other problem she's deemed a problem before in the past didn't even come close to comparing to how _big_ this felt to her. How monumental it was. And it's thrown her in a loop and back again to the point where she felt nauseous every time she thought about it. All she wanted was a summer internship. How did she end up face to face with the birth mother she had forced herself to stop thinking about, wanting to know, an incredibly long time ago?

"Rachel?" Santana ducked her head to catch the brunette's faraway gaze. "Dude, you're scaring me. You know how weird I think it is whenever you're quiet."

"Sorry," Rachel broke out of her trance once she locked eyes with worried brown ones. "I don't know Santana, what do I do? What would you do?"

Santana swallowed hard at feeling like she just got backed into the corner. "Honestly? I have no idea. I've never had to deal with meeting the woman who gave me up at birth and then that woman turning out to be my super famous and successful boss like twenty years later."

"Gee," Rachel couldn't help but laugh at the summary, entirely convinced that this _would_ and _only_ happen to her. "Thanks for nothing."

Santana shot her a sympathetic look. No one could pay her enough money to be in Berry's shoes. The entire thing seemed like one piping hot mess. "I think you should talk to her," she shrugged, throwing her opinion on the matter out there. "She called Kurt and I every hour on the hour the day you went MIA to check if you were back. And you said that she's been emailing you, right? And she just came all this way… I don't know. I agree that she definitely fucked up by waiting forever to tell you instead of just being honest from the get-go, but look at how shook up you are. She probably just needed time too. And at least she's trying to make it right now? At least she's showing that she cares. That's what matters to me—what people do after they mess things up. That's what counts in my book."

"Remember when you hated me back in high school?" Rachel asked a moment after absorbing the advice, a genuine grin brightening her face.

"Remember when you were an insufferable know-it-all?" Santana retorted. "Oh wait…"

"Alright, way to ruin the moment there, Satan," Rachel said, clasping her mouth shut at the sound of knocking on her door.

"Rach, it's me. Can I come in?"

"No, you can't you traitor!" Santana shouted.

Laughing, Rachel only gave a slight nudge of disapproval before getting up to let their other roommate in. She drew in a centering breath as she opened the door slowly to usher Kurt inside, catching a brief glance of Shelby sitting in their living room with her back turned toward her. Never in a million years did she think she'd have the revered actress turned journalist in their shabby Bushwick flat.

"Did you sell out your best friend to the Ice Queen already?" Santana accused as soon as Kurt walked in.

"Kurt? Why do I hear myself singing?" Rachel cocked her head at the sound and rhythm of _Don't Rain On My Parade_ coming from the television in the other room.

"No I have not," he replied, crossing his arms and scowling at the allegation. "I just want to make her comfortable and I couldn't just leave her out there by herself, so I put on the DVD of our Sectionals performance from sophomore year. Showing her some vintage Rachel Berry."

"What? Why would you show her that?" Rachel seethed, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up on her cheeks.

"I don't know! She kept looking at that picture of all of us from Nationals that's on the end table, so I offered!" Kurt defended. "I'm _sorry. _I've never hosted a celebrity before."

"Who also just happens to be my boss," Rachel muttered to herself. "This is weird."

"And your mother," Santana added.

"Yeah," Rachel sighed, running a hand through her hair before quickly deciding to tie it up in a ponytail. She felt like she was gearing herself up for a fight or something. "What did she say?"

"Not much," Kurt informed. "She actually seems pretty nervous. She said she wanted to talk to you and she mentioned something about a book?"

Rachel's eyes flared impossibly wide in understanding. "Oh God, I forgot. Again," she groaned as she jumped over her bed to pick up her tote off the ground, rummaging through it before pulling out the mock-up.

"What is that?" Santana asked.

"It's the final draft of the upcoming edition of _The Rev,_" Rachel said, flipping through the binder, double-checking to make sure it was still in pristine condition. "I had to drop it off at Shelby's place on Monday and that's how I ran into my dads there on their way to meet her. I meant to bring it by the office yesterday, but I just forgot. Ugh. Cassandra's going to murder me."

"You're holding the summer edition of _The Revue_ hostage?" Kurt's jaw dropped as he reached for it with grabby hands.

"_On accident_," Rachel said, handing The Book over to Kurt. "No wonder she's here," she rolled her eyes. "She just wants her work back."

"But she would have just sent anyone to get it if that's all she wanted," Kurt shrugged as he thumbed his way through the raw never-before-seen content. "Hey, the layout is completely different."

"Yeah, Kurt's right though," Santana agreed. "Someone like Shelby has people to take care of things like this for them. Case in point—you. Just go talk to her. The sooner you do, the sooner she can leave if you're really that uncomfortable with her being here. Either way, you have to deal with it."

Rachel chewed on her bottom lip while she attempted to organize her thoughts and sort through her feelings to make a game-time decision. Santana raised a valid point; she had to figure out what she wanted to do. In all honesty, she wasn't really that angry with Shelby or her fathers anymore. She's come to realize that they didn't deliberately intend to keep it from her. And she's spent the last few days hearing nothing but good things about Shelby from her dads and Emma, which actually confused her even more because they were painting such a different picture of the Shelby she thought she knew.

She was just scared, more than anything. Still, she couldn't hide in her room and avoid her mother forever.

"Alright, fine," Rachel released a long and disgruntled sigh. "Can you both please come with me?"

"Absolutely not," Santana said.

"Yes!" Kurt replied.

"_N_o," Santana repeated herself, yanking Kurt's arm to pull him down the bed next to her. "_We_ are staying here. Rachel needs to go out there and talk to Shelby _alone._"

Taking charge so that they could finally all move on with their lives, she pried the leather bound binder from Kurt's hands and gave it back to Rachel, leaning over and shoving her toward the door. "Go, and I'm locking the door behind you so you can't come back in."

Rachel's protests died on her lips as she tripped over the threshold, trying to regain her balance while she walked across the kitchen to the living room. She reminded herself to breathe. This was no different from what she did on the stage regularly. All she had to do was focus and channel all of her nervous energy into her performance. Fake it till she made it. She lifted her head and raised her chin as she took a confident step toward her mother, who was still totally enthralled by what was her first ever show choir competition performance.

"We actually won our Sectionals with this set," Rachel shared as she approached, smiling fondly at the memory. "Nobody thought we would. I convinced my Spanish teacher to start up the glee club like six weeks before this. We had no idea what we were doing and we were total underdogs. But I loved glee. It was my favorite part of high school."

Caught off guard, Shelby cleared her throat and swiped a quick hand over her eyes before she turned around to face her daughter. "You were—_are_—you're _extraordinary_," she said, slowly and sincerely. "Kurt said you were only fourteen here, so I can't even imagine what you sound like now. You're very talented, Rachel."

Taken aback by the emotion, Rachel swallowed with difficulty and tried to avoid Shelby's eyes that were glistening with unshed tears, but her gaze was too fierce and intimidating. Rachel melted. "Thank you, I think that I get it from you," she admitted quietly, hopefully. "Dad and daddy try, but neither of them can actually carry a tune to save their lives."

Shelby chuckled weakly while she stood up on her feet, her breath hitching in her throat as she faced her daughter properly for the first time. With her hair pulled back, zero traces of makeup, and the absence of business professional clothes, Rachel looked as young as she'd ever seen her. As beautiful as she's ever seen her.

Rachel shifted anxiously on her feet, extremely aware and self-conscious at the obvious way the always-sharply dressed editor was studying her. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure, water is fine," Shelby nodded politely at the offer. "Thanks."

"Okay," Rachel said, pleased with something to do other than just stand there. This was a lot harder than she thought it would be, and she was currently fighting every urge she had inside of her to break down her bedroom door and crawl into her bed forever, Santana's threats be damned.

"Sorry it's kind of cramped in here. There are three of us that live here, but we make it work. If you look out that window," she pointed as they walked the short distance from the living room to the kitchen. "You can kind of see Manhattan."

Shelby looked around the flat while memories of being a young professional in New York City flashed through her mind. "It's great. It reminds me of the studio that Emma and I shared in Brooklyn when we first moved to New York."

"Emma told me that you've known each other since you were six," Rachel relayed as she opened up the cupboards, pulling out a matching pair of glass cups and set them on the counter.

"Yeah we were next door neighbors," Shelby elaborated as she sat down at the kitchen table, watching Rachel pour water from the pitcher with shaky hands. "We grew up together. She's... essentially my sister."

"Sorry we don't have bottled water or anything, but this is filtered from the tap," she apologized while she placed the glass in front of the woman and sat in the seat across from her.

Shelby frowned at the unnecessary accommodation. "It's fine, Rachel. I know it may be difficult for you to believe but I do drink water from the tap and I occasionally slum it back down on Earth with the commoners" she teased, hoping to break some of the tension.

Rachel laughed nervously and fidgeted in her seat. Despite what everyone else has said about her, it was still difficult for her to see Shelby as anything but the polished and powerful magazine editor. And she still didn't know whether that Shelby or the more approachable, down-to-earth version of her currently sitting in her kitchen was more unnerving to her.

"Rachel? How do you feel?" Shelby prompted, deciding that it was probably best for her to take the lead on this.

"I don't know… thirsty?" She answered, staring down at the glass of water in front of her. "Um—when I was little and I was sad, my dads would bring me a glass of water. It got so I couldn't tell if I was sad or just thirsty."

Shelby's face fell at the story, her expression closing up almost instantly. "Yeah," she sighed, recalling the past. "They used to do that with me too. Especially toward the end of the pregnancy."

Rachel parted her lips to speak but closed them back again as soon as she felt Shelby's hand on her arm. She looked down at it and then up at her expectantly.

"I'm sorry," Shelby said, her voice soft and only above a whisper. "I'm so sorry for how I've been treating you and for how I've handled everything, Rachel. I never intended for you to find out the way you did. But, if you give me a chance, I'd love for us to move forward and get to know one another."

"Why didn't you ever look for me?" Rachel asked before the courage to do so deserted her. "My dads told me that the contract you signed agreeing to stay away expired when I turned eighteen."

"I wanted to," Shelby shook her head, trying to figure out the words, the proper way to explain to her daughter how she felt about it all. At the same time, unsure if she ever truly could. "I've always wanted to, but I was afraid of coming in and interrupting your life and the childhood I promised your fathers. And then when you turned eighteen, I was just—still scared that there isn't a place for me. You're an adult now. I also didn't know if you wanted to know me either. A lot could've gone wrong, and I was just scared. A part of me has always regretted not looking for you sooner. But another part of me also hasn't because you're... you're amazing. Your fathers have done a wonderful job raising you, so I know I made the right choice."

"But—"

_"__But, _I have always wanted to know you," Shelby said that confidently. "Always. Just because I didn't look for you, doesn't mean that I didn't want to. There wasn't a single day that's gone by in my life where I haven't thought about you, Rachel. I promise you that. Even though we were apart, I never stopped thinking about you or caring about you. I-I always wondered."

Rachel took in a shuddering breath as Shelby reached out tentatively to caress her tear-stained cheek, smoothing her thumb across the surface of her skin slowly. She closed her eyes at the gesture and forced herself to blink back the stinging pressure building. Fighting the way her heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest; she released a breath as she rested her cheek against the comfort of her mother's touch.

"What do you want, Rachel? Because I want this to be up to you, and that's what I told your dads and I mean it. This is your life, and you get to control how we move forward from here. I would hate for you to do anything you don't want to do or force you into any sort of relationship that you're not ready for."

"I don't know," she answered truthfully but touched at the way her mother was looking at her right now. There was no mask of indifference to shield the emotions that flashed through her eyes, which, like Rachel's, were all too expressive.

"I do want to get to know you too, but I'm just—I'm still confused. And I think I need more time to think through it. I'm sorry. I hope you don't," she sighed. "Sorry."

"That's okay," Shelby nodded her head in acceptance, drawing her hand away. "It's okay. You don't need to make a decision on anything right now. I know I dropped by unexpectedly after telling you that I'd give you space. I promise that I'm not expecting anything. I'm also… still overwhelmed by it all too, if I'm being completely honest."

"You are?"

"Definitely," the older woman assured. "I don't know how to approach this any more than you do. But… how about I start with giving you the time you asked for," she decided, glancing at the clock on the wall. "I should get back to the office anyway. Are you—did you make a decision about work at all? Because no matter what, I'm not going to keep you from interning at _The Rev_ if you still want to."

"No I-I haven't either," Rachel stammered, beginning to feel immensely guilty at how clueless she felt about the entire situation. "I'm so sorry. I'm really not usually like this… I just… I…"

Shelby frowned and reached over again to rub Rachel's arm in a soothing manner, hoping to calm the girl's anxiety away over this. "Hey it's okay. Rach, it's fine. I swear. I'm not mad or upset. I told you that this is all up to you. We can go as slow as we need to. Whatever you want."

Rachel hung her head, severely disappointed with her inability to get it together enough to even have a proper conversation with her mother. "Okay. Thanks, Shelby."

"Yeah, of course," the woman said with one more squeeze before releasing her hold. "By the way, do you still have The Book? I understand that Cassandra gave it to you to pass to me."

"Oh yes, I do," Rachel got up and walked over to the counter where she had relegated it earlier. "Sorry. I meant to bring it by the office a lot sooner but then… yeah. Is she mad?"

"Don't worry about it. Cass is always mad about something," Shelby laughed. "It's fine," she assured, inspecting it in her hands when Rachel handed it over. "What are these blue post-it notes?"

"Oh," Rachel blushed. "Those are my notes. I looked through it the other day and jotted some things down, sorry. You can just ignore them."

"No," Shelby smiled at the gesture. "I'll take a look. Thanks. What did you think? Overall?"

"Um," Rachel paused, a contemplative expression taking over her face. "Design-wise? The rebrand is fantastic. I definitely think that you're on the right track. The new layout is aesthetically pleasing. The photography's on another level."

"But the content?" Shelby asked for more elaboration, intrigued by her daughter's critique.

Rachel furrowed her brows together and tilted her head in thought, trying to decide how honest she wanted to be. She shrugged to herself. The woman did ask. "Um, it's well… derivative?"

"Derivative?" Shelby chuckled as she tucked the binder safely back into her purse. "Wow. That bad, huh?"

"No," Rachel smiled at her sheepishly. "The writing itself is really well done, it's just—"

"You feel like you've been reading the same stories over and over again? Shelby completed her thought.

"Yeah exactly," Rachel nodded, genuinely impressed at the way Shelby was able to read her mind. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Shelby shrugged it off. "That's been my train of thought lately too, but I will review it and take your notes into consideration."

"Okay," Rachel smirked, entertained at the way Shelby was able to switch into business mode in what was definitely world record speed. "Sounds good. Let me know if you need help deciphering any of my notes."

Shelby chuckled again lightly. If she had any doubts before, Rachel and her rather overambitious tendencies, was definitely hers.

Acting entirely on instinct, Shelby stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the young woman and pulled her close. She smiled at how perfectly they fit together with the girl's head resting right underneath her chin. "I love you, Rachel," Shelby whispered. "No matter what you decide. Please just know that."

Rachel only tightened her own hold of her mother and buried her face in the taller woman's shoulder in a way that she had only dreamed about before. The faint scent of a fresh floral perfume tickled her nose, and she was sure that her mind would always associate that with her mother from now on. And despite how confused she felt about it all she wished that she could bottle this feeling of being wrapped up in her mom's arms so she could carry it around with her forever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part III**

* * *

The following Monday, Shelby took one final look in the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the private bathroom of the executive suite, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles on her Glen Plaid pencil dress. Sighing heavily, she gazed deep into her own eyes and mentally cringed at how tired they appeared. She's worked around the clock since she left Rachel's apartment on Friday morning with her only real break being the few hours of sleep she granted to herself when she finally went home the previous evening.

She had the meeting with their advertisers and investors this morning and while she was certain she had their continued vote of confidence, she wanted her decisions with the rebrand validated. It had been an arduous process, months worth of work from her and her team, and she still wasn't sure _The Rev's_ editorial content was where she wanted it to be. But it'd have to do for now. They could perfect it later. She just wanted this completed and out of her way so she could return her focus back to working things out with her daughter.

With an approving and very discreet curl of her lips, she methodically schooled her features into a cool, nonchalant facade. She was on a mission this morning. And she didn't want even the slightest tick of emotion to steer the men and women who helped finance her magazine to focus on anything but the proposal in front of them.

She turned around in front of the mirror one last time, checking for anything possibly amiss in her ensemble for the umpteenth time. Once she was satisfied, she lifted her head and squared her shoulders, ready to take the fruits of her labor across the finish line.

"Good morning, you look fantastic," Cassandra complimented as soon her boss walked out of her office, handing the final copy of her notes. "The conference room is all set up. Almost everyone is here. The presentation should be ready to go. Ted and I did a tech run-through earlier, so everything should go smoothly," she rattled off in one big breath. "I know it's private, but do you need me in there?"

"No. I think we should be all set," Shelby replied while she skimmed the paper in front of her, completely missing how those in their way scrambled to clear a path for her as she walked briskly down the hallway. "Thank you," she said, finally looking up once they reached her destination.

"Oh and one more thing," Cassandra started reluctantly, uncertain of whether or not to bring this up right now.

"Yes?" Shelby prodded, curious at the nervous energy exuding off the normally calm and collected woman.

"Bryan Ryan," she sighed. "I took the elevator up with him earlier and he was asking me a bunch of leading questions about rumors he's heard about you… possibly having a daughter," Cassandra relayed, flinching at the way Shelby's entire countenance hardened in response. "I don't know how he found out. I don't know how he knows. I didn't say anything. I didn't confirm it. You know how he is; he just has ears on the ground everywhere. But Shelby, if I could advise..."

"Do not bring it up during the meeting," Shelby gave a terse nod, not agreeing with the course of action but understanding why it had to be done.

"I don't know where you and Schwimmer, sorry, _Rachel_, are at, but I don't think this is something we necessarily need to inform them of at the moment. It could be distracting. Let's just focus on getting them on board with the gut and replace we did on _Rev_," Cassandra suggested. "Who knows, it might not even come up but just in case Bryan Ryan mentions it, I didn't want you to be caught off guard."

An expression of profound frustration took over as Shelby threw her head back and contemplated the lights on the ceiling. Personally, Bryan Ryan and his penchant for drama and, weirdly, revenge were of no importance to her. But the successful venture capitalist was one of the first early-stage investors in her publication and has continued to support her and her company, so she had no choice but to play ball.

"Okay, thanks," Shelby said, lifting her hand but dropping it in resignation on a second thought before she could ruin her perfectly styled hair. "I appreciate the heads up. And I will handle it. Is the video shoot with the _Frozen_ cast this morning all ready to go?"

"Yes," Cassandra nodded confidently. "I'm just on my way to the studio now. Also, seriously just curious, but have you heard about Rachel coming back yet? With some staff out on vacation this summer, I could really use an extra pair of hands and she was… well, we need an intern."

"No, I have not spoken with her or Emma yet this morning, but as far as I am aware, she has not made a decision yet," the editor replied with a smirk. "_But_ I will let Rachel know that you miss her."

Cassandra rolled her eyes at the suggestion. "No_,_ that is absolutely not what I was implying."

"Mhmm, sure," Shelby replied with a teasing tone. "Oh how far we've come from you threatening to quit if I didn't fire the intern. You're getting soft, Cass."

"I am not," Cassandra protested, mentally cursing at the uncharacteristic whine that escaped. "I am simply stating that we are currently understaffed. We have an increased amount of work with fewer bodies. I could use the assistance."

"Oh sorry, gotta go," Shelby winked as she peeked at the time on her phone, turning gracefully on her heels. "But thanks for all your work. Come to my office after the shoot so I can fill you in, _and_ we'll also talk about getting more assistance," the boss said with a wave.

"Alright, good luck!" Cassandra shouted after the woman marching toward the conference with a determined purpose, not that she needed it. She was Shelby Corcoran after all.

* * *

Rachel inhaled a calming breath before she knocked on the partly closed office door. At some point in between waking up this morning and this moment, she blinked and somehow ended up in _The Rev's_ Manhattan office. It had been a few days since Shelby stopped by her apartment and although she was still reeling from her confusion about it all, she decided that the best way to overcome it was to move forward. To take the small steps and just try her best to figure it out along the way.

She knocked again gingerly before she stepped into the doorway. "Hi, are you busy?"

Emma broke her attention from the computer and her entire face lit up at the unexpected sight of the young woman "Rachel, hi!" She greeted with a cheery smile. "No, I'm not busy. Please come in! I didn't realize you were coming to work today."

"Oh no, I haven't made a decision on that yet… sorry. I was just around the area and then thought I'd drop in to see if Shelby was possibly interested in going to lunch with me," Rachel pitched the idea shyly as she settled into the chair across Emma's desk. "But I know I didn't make an appointment with Giselle, so I get it if she's busy."

Emma shook her head, encouraged by the slight progress. "She's in a meeting with the advertisers and investors right now," she informed as she reviewed Shelby's calendar. "It should be wrapping up shortly, but then she just has it blocked off for homework," she chuckled. "Which is the time she designates to returning phone calls and emails. And that can certainly be done after lunch with you."

"Okay," she shrugged, pausing to take in her surroundings. She'd been in Emma's warm and inviting office a few times before, but she's never noticed the myriad of photos along the bookcase before. "It's really fine if she can't."

Emma followed Rachel's gaze curiously, her sight landing on a picture of her and Shelby from high school. "It still blows me away how much you look like her. I do a double-take every time I see you."

Rachel's lips quirked up at the thought of being compared to the beautiful actress. "When was that taken?"

"I'm pretty sure it was senior year," the older woman recalled. "At one of Shelby's show choir performances, I believe."

"What?" Rachel remarked in total surprise. "Shelby did glee too?"

"Shelby did glee," Emma scoffed playfully. "She _was_ the glee club at our high school."

"Really? Did she compete too?"

"No, we went to an extremely small school and we didn't have the finances or the resources to do anything like that, but that didn't stop your mother from convincing our principal to let her start her own glee club, recruiting students, and basically coaching them to put on performances throughout the year," Emma laughed at the memory. Even then, Shelby was already the boss. "I honestly think that's what fanned her Broadway dreams."

"Wow," Rachel commented on the remarkable similarity between her and her mother. "I didn't know that about her."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about her," Emma pointed out with a sad smile. "Like I tell our employees all the time, there's more to their boss that meets the eye," she said, needlessly shuffling papers around in front of her. "I know the legend of Shelby Corcoran seems to follow her around, but I promise that she's a lot more interesting than what you could ever Google about her."

"I guess that's why I'm struggling," Rachel admitted candidly, bringing her eyes up reluctantly to meet Emma's expectant gaze. "I'm just confused about her. I have all these conflicting feelings because I'm not really sure who she is and what she's about."

"Well then, I think that lunch is a good place to start," Emma agreed, doing her best to stay impartial without pushing the girl one way or the other. "You and Shelby will get there, Rach. You just have to give her a chance. But if I could just say one thing? Don't put too much pressure on yourself, there's no right or wrong way to go about this."

"Yeah, I'll try," Rachel promised, exhaling as she relaxed into her chair, somewhat relieved that at least she seemed to be on the right track. "Thanks. Sorry. I know I haven't been coming in but I just—can I talk to Shelby first and then let you know about coming back? I don't mean to be like this or ask for any special treatment. I know other students really wanted this internship, but it's just a lot right now."

"Of course," Emma reassured. "It's fine, Rach. I understand and I am not putting any pressure on you. I know you also needed this internship credit to graduate but we can adjust. We can add on another week toward the end of the summer or have you come in the fall to make it up. We'll make it all work. I promise."

"Alright, thanks," Rachel said gratefully. "I hope so."

* * *

After the meeting, Shelby stepped out of the conference room with an air of confidence that only came after an absolutely commanding performance. For the most part, she had exceeded expectations. She was still slightly unsatisfied with the editorial content, but that was something she could continue to mull over. For now, she's gained the approval for the changes they've made thus far and that was a much-needed victory she was willing to accept.

She sauntered her way toward her office and smiled to herself at how her employees instantly ducked their heads down and got on with their work while she passed. Not that she abused it or anything, but she always believed that a healthy dose of fear was good for productivity.

"Please don't tell me that that's my morning coffee on your shirt?" Shelby asked with a quirked eyebrow at the sight of Cassandra standing in front of her assistant's desk, swiping tissue after tissue off the box, and scrubbing furiously at her stained white shirt.

Cassandra's eyes snapped up and she ceased her futile attempts immediately. "Mhmm, sorry. It was Berry's fault. How did it go? It went over time. And Bryan Ryan?"

"It went well," Shelby informed, confusion spreading across her face. "Berry? Is Rachel here?"

"She's in your office," Cassandra replied, smirking at how visibly apprehensive the woman began to appear. "This was an accident, I came in there to look for you and she startled me. I am going to go to the bathroom to change. And she said something about lunch, so I'll come talk to you after?"

"Yeah go change," Shelby nodded her approval, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of Rachel pacing in her office. "Bryan Ryan didn't even bring it up. I think we're in the clear," she said distractedly.

"Okay, perfect. Well just call me when you're back in and we can debrief. We can also work through the final changes for print? I know you said that you had some thoughts on a few of the articles. Does that sound good?" Cassandra asked, moving her head a few silence-filled moments later to force Shelby's focus on her. "Oh my god," she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You're so annoying. How are you going to go and rock the most important meeting you've had this year no problem but you can't even go in there and talk to your own kid. You two need to get it together. It's seriously bad for business."

"Okay," Shelby shook her head at the always-unsolicited opinion, shoving the laughing blonde away. "Go change, please. I can't have everyone thinking that my managing editor can't even keep herself clean. _That's _bad for business."

Cassandra opened her mouth to protest but decided to err on the side of caution at the sight of Shelby's frosty scowl and stern finger pointing toward the direction of the bathroom. She let out a long sigh in annoyance and turned on her heels. One of these days, she'd win against Corcoran's HBIC glare.

Shelby allowed herself a moment to gather her bearings before she let herself in the office without warning, which caused Rachel to stop dead in her tracks and face her. "Hey," she couldn't help but smile at her presence. "I didn't know you were coming in today."

Rachel swallowed awkwardly as the woman stepped toward her and pulled her into a hug. "I'm not officially back," she said quietly as she accepted the embrace, surprised at how comforting it felt. Almost as if she was craving it. "I just wanted to come see you. Hope that's okay."

"Of course it is," Shelby replied, pleased that she was the one who had to pull away first. "You can always come see me, Rach. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Rachel shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ears out of a nervous habit she couldn't seem to break. "I just thought that maybe we can get some lunch? But if you're busy, that's okay. Emma looked at your schedule and she said you had phone calls and emails to return."

Shelby frowned inwardly, careful not to let the expression bleed onto her features. She hated how awkward it was between them. But she knew better than to expect anything more than that at this point. At the end of the day, she and Rachel were essentially strangers. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if they would ever get to a place where her child could ask to spend time with her without the formalities.

"No, that can wait," Shelby decided, reassured by the tiny smile that just graced her daughter's face. That was certainly something she could get used to. "I'd love to go to lunch. Let me just send a few quick emails and then we'll head out?"

"Sure, I'm just going to go to the bathroom then. Should I meet you back here?"

"Yes please," she replied. Before the girl could walk away she lunged and grabbed her hand, taking it in her own and giving it comforting squeeze. She normally wasn't one for physical affection, but there was something about her daughter, even at this age, that had whatever maternal instincts she had inside of her causing her to constantly want to shower Rachel with all the hugs in the world.

"Yes?" Rachel asked in confusion at the gesture.

"Oh sorry," Shelby apologized, her face flushing red as she tried to stamp down the sudden and uncontrollable rush of emotions. "I just can't believe that you're.. that you're here," she swallowed the lump in her throat. "Thank you for coming by."

Rachel's face split into a wide smile, this one reaching her eyes. "You're welcome. Can I still go to the bathroom or do you want me to stay here?"

Shelby physically shook off her feelings, embarrassed by her inability to keep herself in check whenever the young woman was in her radius. "Yeah, sorry. And you can actually use my bathroom; just hang a right when you walk out the doors. It's behind Giselle's desk."

"Knock, knock," a male voice called out from the doorway, capturing both of their attentions and causing Shelby's insides to automatically roil in her stomach. Her eyes flashed in a panic to her still-missing assistant outside and made the instant decision to fire her. This was not what she needed right now.

"I was on my way out, but I thought I'd stop by. You ran out of our meeting so quickly," Bryan Ryan said as he strolled into the office without waiting for permission. "You didn't give me a chance to congratulate you on a job well done. You and your team have found an inspired way to take _The Revue _to the next level. Truly excellent, Shelby. You should be proud."

Shelby forced herself to keep her face straight at the compliment. After working with the businessman for years, her ears were trained to listen for his subtly patronizing tone. And although he's never been anything but supportive of her and their business relationship, she knew of his notorious and unpredictable reputation. He was infamous for investing in different ventures, startups, and businesses and pulling his financial support often impulsively when he lost interest without any regard to contracts or commitments he's made. She's also been warned of his erratic behavior toward those not in his favor, and how he was easily upset and often felt paranoid or betrayed for some reason or another. She hated coddling his whims and his ego but she needed his finances and his acumen for business. There were only a handful of people in New York City that knew how to play the market as well as and had more money to spend than Bryan Ryan.

"Thank you," she said a beat later, her attention snapping at the uncomfortable way he was scrutinizing her daughter. "We're excited to be moving forward. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Hi there," Bryan ignored the question and extended his hand out to Rachel. "Sorry Shelby, I didn't realize you have company."

"Rachel, this is Bryan from Ryan Capital. He's one of the _Rev's_ investors," Shelby introduced curtly as they shook hands, not even attempting to be polite. She didn't know what his motives were but she wasn't dense and knew that he was fishing. "Bryan, this is Rachel Berry," she left it at that.

"Lovely to meet you," Bryan said with a rapt interest at the young woman standing in front of him. "You must be very special to have been invited back here. Not just anybody gets access to _the _Shelby Corcoran."

Shelby fought the urge to roll her eyes and pursed her lips together in a fine line to keep herself from saying something in retort. Instead, she glanced over at Rachel and softened her expression seeing that the girl was confused.

"Actually," Shelby cut in before Rachel could reply. "We were just on our way out to get lunch. I'm glad you're on board with the rebrand. It's always good to see you, Bryan."

Rachel shifted on her feet anxiously and looked between the two professionals. Clearly Shelby didn't trust the man judging by the way her entire demeanor seemed to have stiffened. She didn't appreciate the sneer on his face either, but she didn't know what else to do. She thought it might be best to escape to the bathroom but she didn't want to leave Shelby alone with someone she was so obviously uncomfortable with. And while she normally wouldn't be this intimidated by new people, there was something about Bryan Ryan also made her feel uneasy.

"Now wait a second," Bryan objected as he stepped in front of them to block their path. "Rachel, do tell me more about yourself. I haven't seen you around here before. When did you start working for _The Revue?_"

Rachel looked to Shelby when she felt the older woman place her hand on her lower back protectively. "Um," she said taking a closer step to her mother. "I actually—"

"Rachel is our intern," Shelby answered for her, seeming to have grown three inches taller. "Now if you'll please excuse us."

"Really?" Bryan pushed as he continued to size the younger woman up curiously, narrowing his eyes between the pair. He had been working with the elusive magazine editor for nearly a decade now and she still remained a total enigma to him. Now that he's heard the first bit of personal news about Shelby Corcoran ever, he was determined to confirm it. "Because I heard something interesting the other day…"

"Is that so? Well I don't care much for industry chit chat," Shelby replied bluntly. "I don't mean to be rude, but we really have to get going."

Bryan, still undeterred, raised his eyebrows in a slightly questioning manner. "Shelby, you don't have children, do you?"

The woman balked at the direct question, his unrelenting prodding stoking her anger. "I'm sorry but what does that have to do with business?"

"Well because Rachel here—"

Shelby shook her head, losing fast control of the little patience she had. "_Rachel_," she interjected in a harsh tone that left no room for argument. "Is _just_ my intern. Nothing more. I'm not entirely certain what you're alluding to Bryan, but I can assure you that it's not that. And we really must get going. I'm _not _going to repeat myself again."

Bryan found himself taking an involuntary step back, not completely startled by the scalding fury emanating off the woman but still rather daunted.

"Mr. Ryan!" Giselle sprinted into the room a second later in an almost frantic state; completely unaware of the tense situation she had just walked into. "There you are! Here's that contact card for the office decorator you asked for and I also just got off the phone with your assistant and she said your car is waiting for you downstairs to take you to your next appointment."

"Okay well it sounds like you better go," Shelby stated, her agitation was transparent but she wanted to stay calm for Rachel. "Thanks for dropping by. Giselle will walk you out."

Bryan cleared his throat awkwardly having effectively been cut down by the polished Corcoran veneer being cast his way. "Alright," he yielded for now, clapping his hands together. "_Well_ I do wish I could stay longer but it was certainly nice to meet you, Rachel."

Rachel only gave a shy nod and a faint smile in response, deciding to continue to stay her course of remaining silent, but also lost in her head ruminating over what Shelby just said.

"Shelby, it's always a pleasure," Bryan bid his farewell, sorely disappointed at the prospect of leaving empty-handed.

"Likewise," she replied with her own forced smile. She held her breath until he followed her assistant out of the door. Keeping her eyes trained on them until they left her sight, she exhaled a moment after they disappeared, which paved the way for relief to enter her body. "Rachel, I'm so sorry," she turned around beginning to apologize. "That was—"

Rachel lifted her head from the ground and Shelby's throat tightened instantly at the hurt expression scattered all over it. "Just the intern? Nothing more?"

"Oh, honey, no," Shelby's heart dropped to her stomach at her poor choice of words. "_No_. I didn't mean that. Bryan Ryan is…" she sighed as she struggled to formulate a proper explanation. "I don't trust him and I didn't want him to know about you. It wasn't his business."

"Are you… are you ashamed of me or something?" Rachel questioned with sincere confusion laced in her voice. "Or you don't actually want to be my mom? Is that why you won't tell people?"

Shelby winced involuntarily at the flying accusations. "No, Rach. No I am not ashamed. At all. I just wasn't comfortable with Bryan knowing about our relationship. You and I have so much left to figure out. I didn't think it was necessary for him to know. Please do not confuse that for anything else."

"Well it seemed like he already knew anyway," Rachel said bitterly, currently unable to see reason. "What would've happened if you did confirm it? Are you worried that it would ruin your reputation? Is that it?"

"No absolutely not," Shelby shook her head furiously, desperately wanting to set the record straight. "I'm sorry I called you just my intern. But you are obviously more than that to me. You're my daughter. That is who you are to me. I'm sorry I didn't introduce you as such, but I also didn't think you'd want to be. You've been so confused about us and I just—"

"Oh, so it's my fault?" Rachel countered back with a scoff, crossing her arms across her chest in contempt. "I'm the one who made you lie to him?"

"No, and that's not what I said either," Shelby said defensively, pitching her voice higher as she battled her frustration. "Please do not twist my words. I am _sorry_ that I didn't tell Bryan who you were, but I truly don't see what the big deal is. I was trying to respect your privacy and protect you. That's it. It wasn't a dig, Rachel. I promise you that. Can we please just take a second here? You are overreacting."

"No I'm not!" Rachel exclaimed, surprising herself and Shelby with the shout that escaped. She was dramatic sometimes, sure, but the one thing she resented the most was when people told her she was _overreacting_ to a situation. It was belittling to her. She couldn't control how she currently felt and it was especially cutting that it was coming from Shelby. "Don't say that to me," she bit, ignoring the way the older woman looked as if she'd just been struck.

Shelby raised her hands slightly in surrender, immensely disconcerted at how quickly she lost control of the conversation. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry, Rachel. But what do you want from me here? What do you want me to say because I really don't know what you want from me right now."

"I want you to stop confusing me," Rachel replied harshly. "You just say one thing and then you do the other. You talk about how much you want to be in my life but then you don't contact me at all for days. And then you say you want to be my mom but then you're telling people I'm just your intern. I don't get it. I don't get you."

"Rachel, _you're_ the one who asked for space," Shelby said in disbelief. How had they gone from making lunch plans to this?

"I didn't reach out after stopping by last week because I told you I was going to give you time. You can't throw that in my face now. And I… I swear I'm not trying to confuse you. I'm sorry you feel like you don't understand me, but I will do my best to show you who I am if you just give me a chance. How about we go to lunch and we can continue talking?"

Before Rachel could answer, the simultaneous ringing of the telephone and an incoming notification from Shelby's laptop on her desk cut through the tension. The interruption broke Rachel out of anger-fueled haze in time to catch Shelby stare at the telephone in a way that looked like she wanted to answer it. "You can get that," she said, deflating significantly.

"Rachel," Shelby sighed at the suggestion, certain she'd never heard one phrase convey so much disappointment before.

"It's fine," Rachel said, already slipping her show face back on but failing to keep her voice from wavering. "We can do lunch next time. I'm just going to head out, you probably have a lot to do anyway."

The ringing continued and Shelby hesitated, throwing Rachel an apologetic look. Fed up with the distractions, she crossed the room in haste toward her desk to mute the call and closed her laptop with a force that created a resounding thud.

"No, it's nothing," Shelby said seriously, her heart leaping to her throat when she turned around to an empty room. Frozen in place and sincerely confused about what just happened, she only watched her daughter's retreating form storm away from her and through the double doors out of the office suite.

* * *

Rachel,

Can we please talk? I've tried calling. Maybe I can come stop by?

Please don't shut me out.

Shelby Corcoran  
Editor in Chief, _The Revue  
_Office: (718) 782-3012

* * *

Hi,

I tried calling you earlier but it went to voicemail. Emma said you were working late.

Anyway, I also left you a message but I just wanted you to know from me that I turned in my letter of resignation for my internship this summer. I'm sorry I couldn't make it work. I just think it's too much right now.

I want to get to know you but if I'm being completely honest, I think I need more space and time to get used to the idea.

I'm sorry. I hope you can understand.

Rachel Berry  
Editorial Intern, _The Revue_

* * *

"What are you doing on the floor?" Kurt questioned his roommate he just found sitting completely still and cross-legged on the ground in their living room. "We haven't swept in forever."

"Shhh!" Rachel hushed in disapproval, yanking him down to join her. "Santana's out in the hallway talking to Shelby. I don't want her to see me. I'm not ready to talk to her."

"Still?" Kurt asked curiously, attempting to reserve his judgment as he leaned up against the wall. "It's been almost a week. That's the third time she's stopped by."

"I know," Rachel sighed, wrapping her arms around her knees as she went to war with her guilt-ridden conscience. "And I feel bad, but I don't know. Do you think I'm being selfish?" She whispered, irrationally thinking that somehow Shelby could hear her.

"No, I don't think so," Kurt whispered back, throwing his own arm around the brunette and pulling her close. "You're not ready and you're just doing what's best for you. I don't think that's selfish at all. She'll understand."

Rachel nodded and rested her head against Kurt's shoulder with another dejected sigh. He might not think she was but she certainly felt selfish. She knew she wasn't the only person confused and hurting over this reunion. There was essentially an adult version of herself whose emotions were also at stake, and that weighed on her more than anything else.

"I'm just scared that I'm pushing her away forever."

"And that's not what you want?" Kurt checked.

"No," Rachel shook her head in objection, a swift, frustrated exhalation of breath puffing from her lungs. "I don't think so, but I don't know what I want. That's the problem."

"What did your dads say?"

"That it was up to me," Rachel shrugged, wishing she had more direction from her fathers but at the same time relieved that they were respecting her choice. "I just wish that I would've met her sooner, you know? Like when I was younger. It's just harder now. It's more complicated."

Kurt hummed softly in understanding. "Well the good thing is, I don't think Shelby Corcoran is the type of woman who gets spooked easily," he reassured. "I think she'll wait as long as you need."

"I don't know," Rachel disagreed, the corner of her lips falling. "I did quit on her. Was that dumb?"

"No comment," Kurt responded with a laugh at the look of betrayal being flashed his way. "Just kidding. I think I'd be more frightened of facing Professor Tibideaux if I were you. You'll be fine. You still have two semesters to find another internship."

Rachel groaned as she untangled herself from Kurt's arm. "It's fine. Maybe I just won't graduate and stay in school forever to avoid being an adult. It's been terrible so far."

"I don't know about that," Santana cut into the conversation as she swiped a bottle of champagne from the counter and settled down on the ground across from the pair to complete a triangle. "At least now we're allowed to drink," she pointed out after taking a sip and handing it off to Kurt.

"It's ten in the morning," he objected as he hesitated to accept the bottle.

"On a _Saturday _and Berry here keeps stressing me out with her mama drama," Santana urged. "Besides, this just needs orange juice and then it's acceptable for breakfast. Also we forgot to get groceries and this and Rachel's weird vegan snacks are all we have left."

"Touché," Kurt relented, taking his own swig.

"What did she say?" Rachel asked, slightly unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Not much. She just wanted to drop this off," Santana said, reaching behind her and handing off the familiar leather bound binder to Rachel. "She wanted to know how you were doing and I said you were fine. Then she asked if I could give this to you and then she left. She didn't even really ask to talk to you."

"What? Why?" Rachel wondered, glancing down at The Book in her hands. "Why would she give me this? What did she say?"

"Just something about there being some changes and a new column included that you might be interested in and she marked them with the blue post-it notes," Santana relayed as best she could. "She really didn't say much else. I think she's getting the hint."

"Yeah and that's probably because she's intimidated by you. I mean, San went in the first time Shelby came over after the Bryan Ryan mess," Kurt shared, passing the beverage over to Rachel. "Breakfast, Rach?"

"Well whatever. I decided that I wanna use my bitch powers to protect the people that I care about. And I guess that means that I care about you," Santana said to Rachel with a cool shrug. "Don't tell anyone though."

Rachel set the binder down carefully next to her after some consideration, deciding to check it out later, and instead opted to join her roommates. "I won't," she said with a smile imprinted on her face as she accepted her own sip from the bottle.

At least no matter what happened with her and her mother, she'd always have the comfort of sharing a home with this family.

* * *

A couple days after what she decided was her last visit to Bushwick, Shelby sipped her scalding hot coffee absentmindedly as she went over the notes Cassandra gave her on the new production schedule and editorial calendar, glad to be getting back to her normal routine with the newest edition of _The Rev_ now off to print and out of the way. Since Rachel quit, _especially _because Rachel quit, she had kept herself busy and her schedule back-to-back and jam-packed, preferring to stay occupied so she couldn't stop and think. Or be reminded about how messed up it all got. Or even spend time wondering if maybe she and Rachel would've been better off not finding each other at all.

Immensely preoccupied with her current task, she failed to notice Emma come into her office, her attention only breaking from her work when the petite woman threw a thick stack of papers on her desk that landed right in front of her, just missing her cup of coffee by a hair.

"Hey please watch it," Shelby began to reprimand but stopped short when she saw the tears streaking down her friend's face. "What? Em, what's wrong? Why are you—"

"That's the _best_ thing you've _ever_ written," Emma said with all the sincerity she could muster, trying to string together what she was feeling. "I'm so serious, Shelby. _Ever. _It was… I haven't read anything like that in forever. It was raw. Genuine. It was… incredibly touching, and, God, so eye-opening. I mean we've talked about it over the years, but I didn't even _know _half of what you wrote about. You've never told me any of that."

"I didn't know how to," Shelby said quietly while a weak smile crossed her face. "It was much easier to write about it."

"I'm so proud of you," Emma said, her voice thick with emotion. "I know you wrote this for Rachel. For her to understand you better, but I hope that this was cathartic for you too. I know how long you've held on to these feelings and I don't know, I just, I _hope_ that this is helping you work through it and finally move forward. I think writing about it and sharing your experience with everyone is an amazing first step in letting go."

Shelby swallowed when she felt that tight ache in her throat that told her that her own tears were moving dangerously close to the surface. "I don't know. Yes, it was about Rachel at first but then I realized that _that's_ what I want _The Rev_ to be about," she cleared her throat, straightening up in her chair. "That's how I want to move forward with the rebrand. I want to share, tell, and uplift the stories about the experiences that made us who we are, the paradigm shifts, the moments that changed the course of our lives forever. The one event, the one person, the one thing, whatever it is, that's shaped everything for us."

"And for you that was your surrogacy, spending all these years away from your daughter, building your life, for her," Emma shook her head slowly in understanding. "It's really powerful, Shel. And I'm not just saying that, the emotions you convey and the story about your journey and the lessons you write about on love and loss and sacrifice and acceptance, it's all so moving and I just know, will be also so relatable, to other women, to other parents. It's an amazing idea. These first-hand accounts. It's personal."

"Exactly," Shelby said, shuffling the papers down in front of her compiling it into one neat pile. "These days, everything is so hyper-edited and over-produced. Our content too. I felt like we were relying too much on the staged videos, the bright thumbnails, and click bait titles and that's not what I was envisioning when I started _The Rev_. I've been thinking about it and I truly believe that the best way for us to improve and to take this magazine to the next level is to do storytelling that is meaningful, that feels authentic, that's accessible, about the people and the shows that make Broadway and this industry that incredible thing that it is. I want our platform to be the space for artists to set the record straight, unfiltered, and on their own terms, to counter what others or the Internet curated them to be. _You _taught me that."

"I love you," Emma stated, laughing through her tears that were now currently flying everywhere. "I think that's a great idea, Shel. And I think that you're so brave for taking the leap first and sharing who _you_ really are with everyone. It takes a lot of courage to put yourself out there like this, but I really do think that you'll also find a lot of support as well. Has Rachel reached out to you?"

"No," Shelby shook her head sadly. "And I don't think she will, but that's okay. I think I wanted this to be easy, but it's her life, Em, and I will deal with whatever it takes for her to work through this however way she wants to, even if that doesn't include me right now. I can wait."

"I think she'll come around," Emma echoed her earlier sentiments. "I mean, you remember what it was like when we were in our twenties, we were so confused about everything all the time and totally uncertain about what we wanted."

"Yeah, you couldn't pay me enough money to go back," Shelby managed a small chuckle, leaning over and pulling out some tissues to offer to her best friend. "It's fine, though. I'm okay. Please stop crying. You know I hate it when you do. And you know Cass will send us both home if she finds us like this."

"Okay, well, come give me a hug then," Emma urged, walking around the woman's desk and opening her arms up to her. "Everything will be okay."

"I know," Shelby sighed as she stepped into the embrace, always surprised by the smaller woman's strength. "Or at least it will be... after you find Cassandra a new intern."

* * *

"Oh no," Cassandra warned with a raised eyebrow as soon as she saw Rachel step out of the elevators. "Turn back right around, Berry. Quitters aren't allowed here."

"I'm just here to see Shelby," Rachel tensed up as she took a timid step toward the managing editor currently throwing her an exclusive, caustic Cassandra July death glare that pierced through her flesh and soul.

"Of course you are," Cassandra broke her stance with an eye roll that suggested she was teasing. She looked down at the girl, noticing The Book in her hands. "Did you read it?"

"I did," Rachel replied, mustering up the courage to smile.

"And?" Cassandra asked curiously.

Rachel bristled slightly as she steadied her breath, cautiously considering her answer. "It's," she paused. "I'd really like to talk to Shelby about it."

"Alright," Cassandra relented. "Follow me."

Without waiting to see if the girl was following, Cassandra strode hastily down the hallway, the heels on her expensive shoes clicking purposively and warning those in their way to scatter elsewhere. "You know, I really thought that you were going to be the reason for _The Rev's_ downfall," she said to young woman.

"Oh, I'm sorry?" Rachel apologized as she struggled to keep up with the woman's pace. "I don't mean to—"

"But," Cassandra halted outside of the conference room, measuring her words carefully and sighing because it pained her to admit what she was about to say. "Turns out, you were actually the best thing that's happened around here in a long time."

"What?" Rachel asked in pure bewilderment.

"I don't know exactly what happened with Bryan Ryan the other day nor do I really care to know, but Shelby's taking meetings for new investors now, something that I've been encouraging her to do for years, _and_ she's writing again?" Cassandra said with her hand on the handle, pushing it down slowly and opening it up to let them both in. "I can only assume that _this_ is because of you."

With a still quizzical expression on her face, Rachel stepped inside the vast meeting space to find photos scattered all over the large boardroom table and large printed page mock-ups of _The Revue's_ newest content displayed on easels bordering the room. She froze at the sight of Shelby standing at the edge of the table, turning of the pages of the spread that she was currently analyzing.

After a moment, Cassandra cleared her throat, which caused Shelby to lift her head and blink in perplexity when she caught Rachel's swimming brown eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt, Shel," Cassandra broke the silence first. "But I found an unaccompanied minor wandering out in the hallway. Think she might belong to you."

"It's okay," Shelby chuckled, still maintaining her gaze on her daughter, a part of her wondering if she was actually there. "Rachel, hi."

"Hi," Rachel said sheepishly, panicking at how the words, the speech, that she had worked so hard to meticulously string together earlier to tell her mother seemed to be deserting her at a record speed. "I uh—"

"Okay, this is painful," Cassandra replied with a grimace at all the awkwardness as she backed out of the room slowly. "I'll let you two talk but just wanted to let you know that I'm going to lunch, Shel. And Rachel, I," she shrugged. "I hope I see you around."

The sound of the door closing caused Rachel to unstick her feet from the ground and drew her forward toward her mother.

"Rachel, I'm—"

"Mom, I'm sorry," Rachel blurted out, closing the distance between them. "I'm _so _sorry. I've been so unfair to you and I—"

"Come here," Shelby urged softly, holding her arms out for her daughter. "It's okay, baby. It's alright. I promise."

Rachel relaxed into Shelby's embrace with a contented sigh as she glanced up at her mother. "Do you hate me?"

"Never," Shelby responded with a lingering kiss on top of her head. "I love you, Rachel. Always. Even if you want absolutely nothing to do with me. That will never change."

"That's not what I want anymore," Rachel murmured, wrapping her arms even tighter around her mother, as if she was afraid she wouldn't get the chance to again. "I want us to try. I want you to be my mom. I didn't get it before, and I wasn't sure if you did either, but now I know that you've always wanted me. Right?"

"Every single day," Shelby answered as a helium-filled sense of relief washed over her entire body. "But I want you to know, Rach," she spoke seriously as she brushed the hair and tears off of her daughter's face. "That I would give this all up if that's what's keeping us from having a relationship. This is just work to me, but you, you are what's important to me. You're what matters."

"No that's not what I want," Rachel shook her head profusely. "_The Revue_ would be nothing without you."

"They can manage without me," Shelby said, choking back the partial sob that threatened to escape at the still-stinging thoughts of having almost lost her daughter again for good. "But I can't, manage, live, without you, Rach. I realize that now."

"Me too," Rachel promised as she stepped away from the embrace and attempted to regain her composure. "But I don't want you to have to give anything up for me, mom. Us trying again. That's enough for me. We can figure everything else out, together."

"Are you sure?" Shelby wanted to be absolutely certain.

"Yeah," Rachel replied convincingly. "Yes. I know I haven't been totally fair. But I can't let you do that for me. Especially not after this," she said, walking in front of the easel that had a draft of Shelby's personal essay on it. "I loved it, mom."

Shelby melted again at the title. "You don't have any edits for me?" She teased.

"Um, well," Rachel singsonged. "Since you brought it up…."

Shelby let out a laugh in amusement, the tension in her heart and mind melting away at the beaming smile on her daughter's face. "Of course you do," she said as she pulled Rachel into another hug. "Still can't convince you to come back and work for me?"

"No I don't think I should," Rachel answered honestly. "I think it's better for us and our relationship if you're not my boss and I'm not your intern. Sorry, is that okay?"

"More than okay," Shelby reassured, her opinion on it completely on the same page. "I'm perfectly fine with that if you are."

"I am," Rachel nodded her head against Shelby's shoulder; squeezing one more time before reluctantly letting go. "But will you help me find another internship for the fall? I need it to graduate. And you _are_ Shelby Corcoran, after all."

"But your mom first," Shelby corrected, her heart still doing backflips at the acknowledgment. "Yes, I'd love to help you look for something new.

"Of course," Rachel replied brightly. "Thanks. And if I could make a recommendation... I know someone who'd be great as my replacement. He's amazing, and you already know him… and while I have you here all to myself, please just hear me out on this."

"Alright," Shelby chuckled again at the enthusiasm, sitting down at the table to give her daughter her undivided attention. "Pitch it to me."

* * *

**_The End. _**

* * *

**A/N: **I promise I'm still writing and will 120 percent finish EC and Opening Up, I've just been preoccupied. But, I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this story. Depending on interest, I'd be inclined to explore more of this AU in the future. For now, thank you, as always, for reading! I'd love to hear any of your thoughts on this.


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